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THE PRINCE OE PASSION 


BY ^ 

EMANUEL M/BAUM 

n 


WALTER NEALE 

440 Fourth Avenue New York 



Copyright, 1924 

BY 

EMANUEL M. BAUM 


NOV 10 ’2^ 

©C1A;S07744 




I 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


CHAPTER I 

Autumn had arrived, and the remnant of a rnild 
September was idly lingering around the hospital 
at Saranac. The russet leaves were falling fast, 
forming a downy pillow of earth everywhere, and 
the surrounding country assumed a jaundiced hue. 

Beneath a beautiful willow tree, whose droop¬ 
ing branches protected him from a mild autumnal 
sun, sat a young man dreamily gazing into space 
and marveling at the season’s beauty, admiring 
his surroundings and thinking of Miss Arnault, 
the lovely French nurse, whose smiles had been 
sunshine to his soul for several months. Thus 
sat Dr. James Burt that morning during his time 
away from the busy wards of the hospital, which 
at this season of the year were overcrowded with 
patients, all victims of the fearful White Plague. 

Full with the hopes of youth, he had left college 
and come to Saranac to answer the call of duty. 
Everything had changed to him since his arrival, 
5 



6 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


and there in the mountains, when random mo¬ 
ments came, he loved to sit and think of times yet 
fresh in his memory, of all the old professors, his 
mates, and those daring football games,—the real 
incidents in the life of every college man. All of 
these had passed in rapid succession, leaving but 
the consoling thought that they once existed. 
Duty and responsibility were now reposed in him, 
and the high position ^ven him at the institution 
meant much for him in the way of success, and 
he was determined to succeed and rise in his pro¬ 
fession. 

Life at Saranac would not have been so pleas¬ 
ant at the start, perhaps, had it not been for Miss 
Arnault, the nurse who bore the warm smiles of 
her sunny native land. Somehow she had given 
him courage. She had spoken to him very kindly 
on their very first meeting, much to the astonish¬ 
ment of all the physicians and attendants, for 
until he had arrived she had been very reserved, 
bowing and smiling to everyone, but always hold¬ 
ing herself aloof from conversation. However, to 
Hr. Burt she had tendered her best demeanor and 
very often in the wards at night, after the patients 
had dozed oif, she and Dr. Burt would converse for 
hours until the time arrived for them to go otf 
duty. On one occasion he had told her something 
that now caused him to ponder; he had told her 
in an unguarded moment that she was a noble 
^ physician he knew just exactly 
what the life of a nurse really was. He knew 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


7 


that she had adopted the highest and noblest mis¬ 
sion within the province of woman, and for so 
many other reasons he was prompted to tell her 
that. He only did that which any other man 
under like circumstances would have done, but 
she, it seemed, rather chose to hear it from him; 
and yet,—for some reason he was very sorry that 
he had told her. 

It is as true as it is strange that we of ten-times 
make utterances to which we attach no serious 
import, and just as a stray seed finds its way 
into the earth, only to bloom later into a beautiful 
flower, so a few little words spoken at random 
often ripen into some unknown something in 
others and bear fruition. Love itself seems to be 
born of a whisper, a tender word. 

Dr. Burt^s dreams beneath the willow ended. 
The dreams of young men always end; not so with 
women. It was time to go back to duty, and Dr. 
Burt, with a hearty tread wandered back to the 
hospital, whistling as he went, and thinking all 
the while of Miss Arnault. To think of some par¬ 
ticular individual is nothing unusual, but what 
really caused Dr. Burt to wonder was why Miss 
Arnault was the particular individual that was 
consuming his thoughts. 

On arriving at the hospital, Burt hastily went 
to the dining-room for his breakfast. The air of 
the early morning had promoted in him an excel¬ 
lent appetite. On the opposite side of the table 
sat Miss Arnault. He bowed to her as usual, and 


8 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


was about to seat himself when another of the 
nurses came hurriedly up to where he stood and 
informed him that he was wanted immediately in 
Ward B. Once was enough for Dr. Burt to be 
told, and away he dashed. Up the long flight of 
stairs he jumped, taking two and three steps at 
a time. The door leading to the ward was partly 
ajar and as he entered, all out of breath, he 
squarely collided with Dr. Cornell. 

^‘Dr. BurV’ said the latter, ‘‘this patient en¬ 
tered the institution this morning. I have worked 
on the case for several hours and find that both 
of her lungs are seriously atfected. I have given 
her an opiate to put her to sleep and relieve her 
sutfering and now I wish to turn the case over 
to you in order that you may ascertain the extent 
of her illness. Since this is your ward it falls to 
your lot to take care of her, but it is a sad case, 
old man, and she cannot live much longer. I doubt 
whether she will live the week out.’’ 

^^Who is she?” interrogated Dr. Burt, all 
amazed. 


‘She IS the daughter of a wealthy Nevada 
financier, and only nineteen years of age, but for 
there is no chance for her recovery. 
She has a violent cough which can not be checked* 
and I am quite certain that a hemorrhage will 
take her oft in short order. I would ask you to 
exercise your best endeavors in her behalf, which 
I know you will, although I know that she will 
ultimately pass away.” 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 9 

With this parting remark Dr. Cornell left the 
ward. 

Bnrt stood for a moment in silence, looking 
down upon the poor patient whose fate Dr. Cor¬ 
nell had so heartlessly announced. 

‘ ^ So young, ’ ’ he muttered, ‘ ‘ only a girl in years, 
and not even the plague has destroyed her beauty. 
It seems so unfair of nature, that this young 
Western lass, fresh from the wildwoods of her 
golden country, should be permitted to fall a prey 
to this abhorred disease. But why has Dr. Cornell 
placed her in my charge? Why not place her in 
the hands of one of the more learned professors? 
This is not the time, however, to ask questions; 
this is my allotted task, and I am going to make 
the best of it.^^ 

With firm resolve he pressed a push button at 
the head of the patient ^s bed. A moment later an 
attendant entered the ward. 

'‘Tell Miss Arnault,'' said the physician, "that 
Dr. Burt desires her assistance at once." Where¬ 
upon he placed his hand upon the patient's head 
and felt her pulse. 

The covers on her bed began to move; the sick 
girl turned, and opening her eyes, looked up at 
Burt. He in turn looked down at her in a sym¬ 
pathizing manner, and still holding her hand in 
his, asked her how she felt. With a voice that al¬ 
most brought tears to his eyes, she exclaimed: 

"I am so dreadfully sick. Doctor, dreadfully 
sick. The other Doctor told me that I cannot live 


10 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


very long, that death was only a matter of a day 
or two, and that if I cared to say anything or com¬ 
municate with anyone I should do so without de¬ 
lay. He told me that both of my lungs were 
affected and that there was not a chance of my 
recovering. ’ ’ 

Burt listened quietly to all that she said and in 
a soft tone of voice told her to forget it all and try 
to cheer up. 

‘^CanT you save me. Doctor she pleadingly 
asked. ‘Hs it possible that I can never go home 
again alive and wellF’ 

Scarce had she ended the last question when 
again the violent coughing began, shaking her en¬ 
tire body. Miss Arnault then entering, reminded 
Dr. Burt that he had not eaten his breakfast. 

yWhen the voice of duty calls us, we must not 
think of ourselves. Nurse, he exclaimed. 

Order a rolling-chair at once, and have it sent 
doTO to the lawn. I am going to remove this 
patient there and see if I cannot relieve this suf¬ 
fering. Fresh air will do her a lot of good. 

He turned to face Miss Arnault, but she had 
gone. He stood mute for a moment. It appeared 
as though something terrible was passing through 
his mind. He had spoken harshly to one who 
least deserved it of him. He had forgotten him- 


Men who are devoted to their labors and eager 
to perform the tasks set before them, are always 
more or less absorbed in what they are about to 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


11 


do. While thus engaged the better side of them 
is thrown into their efforts, while thoughtfulness 
for all other things is entirely forgotten. It was 
while thus absorbed that Dr. Burt had spoken 
harshly to Miss Arnault. But what was the use 
of repenting? What was she to him or he to her? 
In any event she could not be compared to the 
beautiful patient lying before him. 

Dr. Burt realized that the time had arrived for 
action; necessity required it. The fair one was 
coughing again and speaking in an incoherent 
manner, as if out of her mind. ^ Burt, growing 
impatient, seized the sick girl in his arms and car¬ 
ried her down the stairs, out into the open, and 
placed her upon the downy lawn. She ceased 
coughing for a while and glanced up at him. Her 
eyes seemed to penetrate his very soul. Bending 
over her he whispered into her ear: 

am going to cure you. I am going to save 

you. ’ ’ 

She raised her snow-white arm aloft and al¬ 
lowed her hand to touch his shoulder, a tender 
smile creeping over her dimpled cheeks. 

Miss Arnault arrived with the rolling-chair, into 
which Dr. Burt carefully lifted his patient, and 
then returned to the hospital, assured for some 
reason or other that Alice Doyle, his patient, 
would get well. 


CHAPTER II 


The sun, with a glimmering, golden glow, had 
sunk far over the hills and the lights of the hos¬ 
pital already threw their silvery glare out upon 
the lawn. Dr. Burt sat in his little room solilo¬ 
quizing. At times he appeared to be thinking 
deeply. While thus engaged Miss Arnault en¬ 
tered his room, and without the slightest hesi¬ 
tancy, sat down beside an old mahogany table, 
which from all appearances had existed way back 
in the Colonial days. Burt saw her now as he 
had never seen her before. Anxiety was written 
all over her face, and without waiting for him to 
speak, she defiantly said: 

/^Jim Burt, you just donT act the same as you 
did before that pale-faced little Nevada girl came 
here. You are a different man entirely.’^ 

He arose, and taking her by the hand, almost 
led her to the door. 

''Dr. Burt never gave Miss Arnault cause to 
call him Jim,'' he said, "nor to speak to him in 
the manner in which she has just spoken, there¬ 
fore, good-night. Nurse. If I have need of you I 
will send for you." 

With this remark he left her standing at the 
door of his room and hastened to the lawn below. 

12 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


13 


Dr. Cornell was there, Ms coat lying on the 
ground, and his shirt-sleeves rolled up to Ms el¬ 
bows. 

‘‘Hurt!’’ he exclaimed, “this poor girl has only 
an hour or so to live.” While thus speaking, he 
filled his hypodermic syringe with a delicate white 
flmd. “This should give her immediate relief,” 
he went on, “especially in view of the fact that 
modern science has demonstrated conclusively 
that intravenous medication is the most etfective 
in the treatment of disease. Its efficiency can not 
be disputed. I am going to inject morphine into 
the young lady and rid her temporarily of the 
excruciating pains that I am sure she is under¬ 
going.” 

Burt looked at him for a moment, but in that 
look Dr. Cornell saw most convincingly, that Dr. 
Burt did not fully agree with him. 

“The intravenous method,” said Burt, “as you 
say, is undoubtedly good; but I am not going to 
permit the use of morphine. It is the indiscrimi¬ 
nate use of drugs in sickness, that is in a great 
measure responsible for so many fiends addicted 
in after life to the use thereof. Since there is a 
possible hope for this patient’s recovery, I am 
not going to jeopardize her future. I have made 
a careful examination of this case and am fully 
convinced that this patient has no tubercular 
trouble, but merely a mild, very mild touch of 
lobar pneumonia. I am going to give her an in¬ 
jection of guaiacol, creosote and sodium iodide. 


14 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


which, will immediately relieve her belabored 
breathing/’ 

Hr. Part then proceeded to file oft the head of 
an ampoule containing these ingredients, and 
after filling his syringe with the entire contents, 
he inserted the instrument into the patient’s left 
arm. A little back-flow of blood into the syringe 
assured him that he had pierced the vein. Hardly 
ten seconds elapsed before a pinldsh glow came 
to the patient ^s cheeks. Cornell almost danced 
with delight. He marveled at what he saw. 

^‘You’re simply great, Burt,” he exclaimed, as 
he dashed away to the room of Hr. Edwards the 
superintendent. ’ 


''Why are you out of breath, doctor?” queried 
the elderly professor. 

^ "I am simply astounded,” uttered Hr. Cornell 
"simply overcome, and hardly believe my own 
eyes.^ Why, Hoctor! I just saw Jim Burt snatch 
a maiden from the jaws of the grave and restore 
her to the world. I am sure she will live; just as 
sure as I was a short while ago that she would 
die this day. I knew this man at college. He was 
always delving into secrets and complicated mat¬ 
ters. All of the professors made especial note of 
his activities and commented on his ability, and 
ey a 1 agreed that Jim Burt was going to be a 
great man, a medical wizard, and darned if their 
prophecy has not come true. I tell you he is a liv¬ 
ing marvel.” 

While all of these nice things were being said 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


15 


about him, Burt instructed Miss Arnault, who had 
come to his assistance, to go to bed. stay 

up alone with this corpse to-night,’^ he said, as 
he bade her a suppressed good-night. 

Once alone with his patient, he stooped over 
her and listened to her heart. It was beating al¬ 
most normally. Quick as a flash he opened her 
mouth, and emptied a wine-glassful of a milky 
mixture he had prepared, all of which she swal¬ 
lowed. He then sat beside her and awaited re¬ 
sults. 

The little gong inside the hospital rang out the 
lonesome hour of three when he again stooped 
over her. This was the hour he had set in his 
mind, for either her recovery or death. That hour 
meant so much for him, yes, and meant so much 
for her. He seized her arm almost frantically, 
and felt her pulse. A minute later he joyfully 
muttered aloud: 

‘ ^ Thank God I Seventy-eight! ^ ^ 

The young girl was sleeping soundly and 
breathing like a new-born babe. Half-consciously, 
Burt bent over her and kissed her on the cheek. 
It was an impulse that he could not resist. Like 
all men, he had his impulses, and they were irre¬ 
sistible ones. Her cheeks and forehead were 
warm, warm with the glow of youth, and seemed 
to respond with greater warmth to that single 
kiss, half-consciously given, unconsciously re¬ 
ceived. 

The gray-eyed morn had come when Burt took 


16 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


her pulse again; it was beating normally. She 
opened her eyes and looked at him. 

''Good-morning, Miss Doyle,'’ he said. ‘'How 
do you feel this morning, after sleeping under the 
canopy of heaven all night P' 

She sat upright, and rubbing her eyes, answered 
noddingly; 

I believe that I am a whole lot better, and 
will soon be able to go home again." 

Yes, that is true," Burt replied; "but you 
will have to be our guest for a week or so. I 
am going to send you home a strong, well, and 
beautiful woman." 


She smiled. 

"How can I ever repay you for all that you 
have done for me?" she asked. 

"Let that not worry you in the least," he re¬ 
plied, "I have already been compensated." 

''Compensated!" she exclaimed, "I just can't 
understand." 

Burt colored and said: 


If you will forgive me for an indiscretion. I'll 
make a full confession of a very rash act." 

“Go on,” she commanded, “IVe forgiven.” 

He hesitated for a moment, and then assui^ing 
an attitude of courage, he told her of how he had 
been led by impulse to Hss her. 

“Surely ” he said, “I did not think it wrong to 
kiss a lovely, dying creature, for to me you seemed 
more beautiful in death than other maidens in 
lite, and I have that within which makes me yield 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


17 


to impulse. I simply had to kiss you. They called 
me a prince of passion at college, and you looked 
so queenly that the temptation became an irre¬ 
sistible one.^’ 

‘‘You are a petty thief, Dr. B'urt,’^ she win- 
somely remarked; “but, as you say, I cannot see 
any harm in that; maybe that kiss saved my life, 
and if you promise not to tell anyone, Vll give it 
back to you the very first time we chance to be 
alone. ’ ’ 

A little while later Alice Doyle was wheeled 
back into the hospital, while Dr. Burt retired to 
his room. Once there he threw himself down upon 
his bed and endeavored to sleep, but the pretty 
face of Alice Doyle loomed up before him. Event¬ 
ually from sheer fatigue he fell asleep. Several 
hours later he was aroused by a knock at the door, 
followed by the entrance of Dr. Edwards, who 
exclaimed: 

“Go right back to sleep, good fellow. I only 
stopped in to compliment you on your most recent 
success.’’ 

Alice Doyle grew strong gradually, and daily 
took walks around the beautiful country surround¬ 
ing Saranac. For some reason or other Burt was 
always with her, and when he was not on duty in 
the wards, he was helping Alice Doyle to pass the 
time away. Two weeks elapsed. To Burt these 
two weeks seemed like a day, and during all this 
while someone else was watching and waiting, 
spending an eternity alone. Alone, a heart was 


18 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


pining for him. Love in its purest form, unde¬ 
filed, true love, of which he knew nothing, was 
waiting for him there. The love of a woman, a 
warm-hearted French girl, who loved unloved, and 
feared to speak. She alone knew his true nature. 
She knew that he was going to love Alice Doyle for 
only a little while. She had heard of the many 
women he had duped. Clever as he was, and 
despite his powers and ability, he was a fiend of 
passion at heart, and yet, she loved him. 

As a matter of fact, when a woman loves, she is 
blind to all the faults in the man she loves, no 
matter how apparent these faults may be. She 
only knows she loves him, and in this respect 
Jeannette Arnault was just like all other women. 
She questioned herself as to whether or not she 
should tell Alice Doyle just who and what he was, 
and inform her that the gardener who cares for 
the flower, later on, when it has reached full 
beauty, plucks it for himself. She at last deter¬ 
mined to remain silent. 

“What is the use?” she asked herself, “it is too 
late.” 

Why, Burt had even attempted to lead her 
astray on one occasion, but she was too strong in 
mind for him, and that was just why he cared 
nothmg for her. Throwing herself across her bed, 
Jeannette Arnault fell into one of those little sob¬ 
bing spells so characteristic of the fair sex. 


CHAPTEE III 


It was on a Wednesday morning that a sudden 
tap at the door of Jeannette Arnault aroused her 
from her sleep, if sleep you could call it, for she 
had not known a real night ^s sleep since Alice 
Doyle arrived at Saranac. Jumping from her bed, 
she hastily put on a kimono and then opened the 
door. Burt, without even so much as bidding her 
good morning, entered and sat down. 

“What brings you to my room at such an early 
hour?’^ she asked him with an eager and inquiring 
look. 

“Miss Arnault,he began hesitatingly, and in a 
manner new to her, “our patient has fully recov¬ 
ered, and is going to leave here this morning. She 
is going to California on the one-thirty train. 

“And why to California?she asked. 

“Because I have so advised her,’’ he feebly re¬ 
plied. She is not going alone, as it would not be 
safe to let her travel such a long distance unaccom¬ 
panied. I have decided to make the trip with her, 
and she has accepted my proposition to go. I have 
been here for some little while and although I have 
received a great deal of consideration and good 
treatment from everyone, I feel as though my 
prospects for elevation here are limited. I have 
19 


20 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


therefore, concluded to go to California and 
thought that you might care to say good-by 
to me before I left/’ Scarce had he uttered 
the last word when he shrieked aloud: ''Why, 
look, Jeannette Arnault! You are only half 
dressed!” 

With this remark he arose and placed his arm 
about her waist, and would have embraced her, 
but just then his eye fell upon a little golden cross, 
upon which was mounted the image of the Saviour, 
idly lying upon her snowwhite neck. He retreated 
like a fawn at bay, while she sat there unper¬ 
turbed, and with a defiant look upon her face 
asked: 

''What fails the tempter now? Why has the 
panther turned lamb so suddenly?” 

Burt turned toward the door. "I am going to 
leave Saranac forever,” he said chokingly. 
ain ashamed of myself, but God knows I can’t help 
being what I.am, and doing as I do. Won’t you 
say farewell?” 


With tears flowing from her eyes, she ap¬ 
proached him, and placing her hand in his, cried 

Jim Burt, do not go. Just think a moment or 
so before you act. You are doing a rash thing, 
and you may be very, very sorry for it some day 

^ ^ prosperous future in 

store for you; an able physician that can do a lot 

suffering of man¬ 
kind. You are among friends and have every- 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


21 


thing that a man could wish for, so why desire 
more? Yon know in yonr heart that yon do not 
love Alice Doyle, and she will not and cannot love 
yon after she has once learned yonr trne natnre. 
Do not make her unhappy, Jim,—^please don’t; 
remain here with ns. ’ ’ 

‘‘Jeannette!” he fairly shouted, “do not plead 
with me, and do not ask me to remain. I would 
confess everything to yon if I only dared, but yon 
would not understand. I can not accept any 
proposition other than that of going away. I am 
in quest of something other than compassion. I 
am not worthy of anything at yonr hands and 
expect nothing from yon hut yonr pity, but if yon 
ever need me, I will come at yonr call no matter 
where I may chance to be. Yon are really the best 
woman I ever knew, and if all women were just 
like yon this old world would he paradise itself 
and there would not he any men like me. I have 
learnt to love yon for yonr goodness and nobility, 
Jeannette, and out of that love I hear yon I am 
obliged to leave. Yon know that I am one of pas¬ 
sion’s toys, and that for me to behold a woman 
means the conquest of that woman. ’ ’ 

He was about to go, but she threw her arms 
about his neck, weeping as though her poor heart 
would break. 

“For God’s sake, don’t touch me, Jeannette!” 
he yelled, as his face turned blood-red, and with a 
sudden turn he loosed himself from her embrace 
and ran from the room like a madman. 


22 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


He was gone, and with him went Jeannette 
Arnault’s last hope. He left her at the moment 
she thought she was about to win him. 

“Gone!” she shrieked, and as the word left her 
mouth, she fell to the floor in a faint. 

Meanwhile Burt and Alice Doyle were bound 
for California. Their train was just leaving the 
station as Jeannette Arnault came out of a heavy 
stupor. The little clock in her room had just 
sounded a single stroke. She looked and saw that 
it was exactly half-past one o’clock. Old Dr. 
Edwards bent down and helped her to her feet' 
speaking to her in a fatherly tone. 

“Do not worry. Miss Arnault,” he said, “for 
what IS to be will be. Perhaps it is well that every- 
ming has ended in the manner that it did. Dr 
Burt was the best man I had in this institution! 
and although I have spent the greater part of my 
lite right here, and have seen doctors come and 
^ better man on my staff.” 

“Don’t speak that way. Doctor!” she ex¬ 
claimed; “for that only adds to my misery. I 
truly loved Jim Burt, but ’ ’ 

, liut,” broke in the gray-haired physician. 

You do not know him as well as I do. Miss 
Arnault. One day, while in a jovial mood and 
seated in my office, he made me his confidant, and 
told me a tale that almost dazed me. I hardly 
believed my own ears as he spoke, but for all of 
that, he is a good fellow with a great deal of mys¬ 
tery surrounding him. He seems to enslave 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


23 


everyone that comes into contact with him, and 
liking him is putting it very mildly. His eye 
speaks and reads, and his very touch conveys 
magnetism. Yes that touch is marvelous, and also 
dangerous—^marvelous in that it has curative 
properties for the afflicted, hut dangerous as well 
as poisonous for pretty women. He has restored 
persons to health who would have died at the 
hands of older and more prominent physicians. 
His chief hobby it seems, is to triumph over death. 
There is a signal in his eye that misleads; a look 
upon his face that deceives. That day he spoke to 
me, he said: ‘Hr. Edwards, I have never done a 
man wrong in all my life, but there is a fiendish 
power that asserts itself in me; a power that I 
cannot resist.’ ” 

“Ho not tell me,” cried Jeannette; “I know, I 
know it full well. ’ ’ 

“But it will not hurt for you to hear it. Miss 
Arnault; as a matter of fact, you might profit by 
it,” and continuing, he said: “Burt assured me 
that if it were not for that power he would have 
been perfectly content and satisfied. ‘Some day,’ 
he said, I may meet a woman that I can truly love, 
and if she can charm this barbarous soul of mine, 
then I will find true happiness. It is all an uphill 
fight now, and I know that I will not stay here 
very long; if it had not been for Miss Arnault I 
would have quit the very first week. ’ ’ ’ 

Hr. Edwards paused for a moment, then said: 
“Really, Miss Arnault, he remained longer than 


24 THE PRINCE OF PASSION 

I expected, but he is gone now, and we will all have 
to try and forget him. Continue on as you have 
done, and do not worry. Had he cared enough for 
you, he would not have gone away in this man¬ 
ner. ’ ’ 

With this last consoling remark, he left the 
room. 

'‘We will all have to try and forget him,’' she 
slowly repeated aloud; "yes, all but one, all but 
one.” 

With a despairing heart, Jeannette Arnault 
spent the few succeeding days following Burt’s 
departure. Her misery was complete. To her it 
seemed as though the whole world had contrived 
to make her hfe miserable. "When a good woman 
loves (and all good women do love) and she finds 
herself spurned and jilted by the man she loves, 
no consolation, no cheering word of friends, noth¬ 
ing whatever can solace her. If men could only 
feel, could only know what joys they take from 
the hearts that they break, life would know less 
woe. 


CHAPTER IV 

‘‘You are a fool, old man, to be hanging on to 
this poor wretch, and yon thought that she was a 
perfect angel, but that part is all right as all of 
ns get stnng now and then by a mosqnito. Why 
I knew this dame a conple of years ago; she played 
in a bnrlesqne show that had a two nights ^ stand 
down home, and all the boys said that it was a pity 
for snch a good-looking girl to be on the stage. 
They conldnT gag me, for I saw the play and 
knew every girl in the crowd, and also knew Alice 
Doyle. Why, that Nevada spiel is a lemon. Yonr 
next best move will be to get rid of her. Yon bet¬ 
ter give her the icy mitt, or yondl be all to the bad, 
Jim Bnrt.’’ 

These were the words of Jack Forbes to James 
Bnrt, as they sat in a concert hall in the slums of 
San Francisco. 

“Hang it all!'' Bnrt exclaimed. “What the 
deuce do I care; I've got the coin, and when I 
get tired of her, which will happen pretty soon. 
I'll pull out of town. Not to change the conversa¬ 
tion—but, Jack old pal, yon have not changed a 
bit; yon look like the same old fellow that yon 
were at college. I thought that I would find yon 
25 


26 


THE PRINCE OP PASSION 


married and settled down, and here you are plug¬ 
ging away at medicine, and still courting the fair 
ones.” 

Yes,” ejaculated Porhes, “I have got you to 
thank for both; I can never forget the day when I 
wanted to quit college and go West. It was on 
that day that you placed your hand on my shoul¬ 
der, looked me square in the eye, and said: ‘Jack 
Porhes, be a man and stick to the finish.’ The 
following year we were both graduated. I came 
on to San Prancisco and made a success of things 
right from the very start. I have a very good 
practice now and have saved a snug little sum of 
money. I would have been a wealthy man by this 
time were it not for women. Confound them, they 
would bankrupt a billionaire, but I love them just 
^ ^’ou to thank for that also. 
With that same touch that cheered me and encour¬ 
aged me on to study, you injected a passion that 
nas been a poison to my sonl/^ 

^ Life is bnt the tick of a clock, ’ ^ Burt retorted 
so smile on, Jack, and laugh everything down^ 
Some day one of California’s belles will go fishing 
with a drag-net and scoop you in—and some prize 
she _pts when she lands you. In the meantime 
don t be foolish; go your rounds like a man, and 
It your neighbors and acquaintances don’t like 
the way you go about things, pass them up for 
dead ones.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by the en¬ 
trance of Alice Doyle. ^ 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


27 


‘‘She has learned to find ns/^ Forbes jokingly 
said to Bnrt. 

A few weeks had not changed the beanty of 
Alice Doyle; she was still lovely, as there she 
stood with both of her hands on Burt ^s shoulders. 

“Good evening, Dr. Forbes!^’ she exclaimed. 
“I called at your office, but your man informed me 
that you left word to meet Jim and yourself here. ’ ’ 

“That is perfectly right,said Forbes, “and I 
was speaking about you just a while ago. I was 
telling Jim of our acquaintance of a few years 
ago.” 

“Is that so!” she said smilingly, then re¬ 
marked: “Jim donT care, anyhow. Do you, 
pet!” she asked, as she bent over and kissed him. 

Burt laughed out loud, but did not answer her 
question. 

It was past midnight now. The three com¬ 
panions had been drinking heavily, and Burt, who 
chanced to be able to drink more than the others, 
tapped Forbes on the back and told him to go 
home. They both arose and were about to leave 
when Forbes looked down at the girl, now helpless 
with drink. “What are you going to do with 
her! ” he questioned, as Burt looked at him with a 
grin on his face. 

“Confound the thing,” Burt replied, “let the 
Old Boy take care of her. ’ ’ 

“Please donT talk like that, Jim, for it does not 
sound a bit like you,” Forbes entreated, and then 
suddenly stepped back in a retreating manner. 


28 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


‘‘For God^s sake, Jim, donT look at me in that 
way!^’ he shouted. “Your face is pale, and a 
changed look has come over you; but please don T 
stare at me that way. Be a man, Jim, and have a 
little pity. This poor mortal is only a woman, 
after all, and it does not seem right to abandon 
her in this vile place. ^ ’ 

Burt grabbed Alice by the arm and pulled her 
roughly to her feet. She stared at him a moment, 
after which her face suddenly became contorted, 
and she appeared to be suffering intense pain. 

“Come away from here,’’ Burt commanded, 
and placing her betwen Forbes and himself, the 
three loitered off. 

While all this was taking place in San Fran¬ 
cisco, way up at Saranac, in a dimly-lighted room, 
sat Dr. Cornell and Jeannette Arnault. She was 
speaking to him in harsh tones. 

“It is no use for you to insist upon it. Doctor,” 
she said, “for I do not care for you. I have a 
mission to perform, and duty bids me tell you no. 
Your pleadings are all in vain; I told you so a long 
time ago, so please leave me and trouble me no 
more.” He left the room, after which she arose 
quickly and going to the door securely locked it. 

“Shall I do it?” she repeated four or fjve times 
aloud. “Can it avail me anything? He won’t 
hate me for it, I know. I’ll do it.” 

With this final remark she unlocked the door 
and left the room. A few minutes later she re¬ 
turned, carrying several pieces of wearing apparel 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


29 


on her arm. These she threw upon a chair, then 
stood for a moment or so as in a trance, in deep 
contemplation. 

‘‘Yes, Idl do it,^^ she said, and reached out to a 
corner of the room and lifted up a large brown 
traveling bag, partly covered with dust. This she 
hastily dusted and placed upon the bed. Piece by 
piece she folded her belongings and laid them care¬ 
fully in the bag. 

Jeannette had just finished packing, and was in 
the act of locking the grip, when old Dr. Edwards 
passed her door. It was slightly ajar, just enough 
to permit him to look in. He paused and inquired 
whether or not he might come in. Infornied that 
he might, he entered and seeing the traveling bag 
upon the bed, he became somewhat alarmed. 

“What are you about to do. Miss ArnaultT’ he 
queried. “I trust that you are not going to leave 
us after being here so long, are youP’ 

She looked at him and smiled. 

“Yes, doctor,’^ she replied, “I am obliged to 
leave. ’ ’ 

“Do not forget that you are a nurse. Miss 
Arnault, and that you have a mission to perform,^’ 
the aged physician informed her. 

“I have not forgotten that, dear Doctor,she 
said, “but there is a greater mission in life than 
that of simply being a nurse. ’ ^ 

“I suppose you are going back to ParisP’ he 
ventured. 

“No, Doctor,she responded, “I am not going 


30 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


back to Paris. I am going to San Francisco to¬ 
morrow morning to search for Dr. Burt and save 
him from the ruin that confronts him. I promise 
to rescue him from his doom, if it takes the bal¬ 
ance of my life to do it. He needs me; he needs 
the tender care of a devoted woman, and God in 
His infinite mercy knows that my devotion for 
Jim Burt is without a parallel.’’ 

Dr. Edwards remained silent for a while, and 
then said: 

You have my best vdshes. Miss Arnault, and I 
trust that you will prosper in your every at¬ 
tempt. ’ ’ 

also wish you well,” she replied as the tears 
ran down her cheeks. Her big, black eyes were 
drowned as she continued: ‘^You have been 
mighty good to me. You have been more than a 
father, and I shall never forget you. Poor Jim 
needs me now more than you do; and I know that 
you will be happy when you learn of his success. 
Duty comes before a mission: they never mean 
the same thing; but be that as it may, it is my duty 
to be near the man that I love, and Jim Burt is 
that man.” 

^‘Perhaps you are right, my daughter,” said the 
aged physician. ‘‘Go seek him out, and may the 
good Lord assist you in your endeavors to make a 
real man out of Burt. Don’t forget the old friends 
at the hospital, and drop us a line now and then.” 

He would have said more, but the thought of 
her leaving almost choked him. Impressed with 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


31 


her honesty of purpose and the nobility that was 
hers, he bade her good-night and good-by. Dr. 
Edwards had learned her value. When honorable 
men have learnt the true value of a good woman, 
and have found the purity that is concealed in her 
soul, each good-night encourages them on to a 
better to-morrow. 

Jeannette Arnault was about to go on a des¬ 
perate venture. She had fully determined to pur¬ 
sue Jim Burt to the end, and to win him back to 
the cause of right, to life and to herself. Next 
morning after breakfast, after bidding everyone 
a last farewell, and throwing one last look of af¬ 
fection toward the old hospital, she departed. 
Dr. Edwards took her to the station. 

For a long time after the train left Jeannette 
looked back toward Saranac; but time and space 
had separated her from it. 


CHAPTER V 


A GOLDEiT twilight was hanging over the Western 
city as the train on which Jeannette Arnault was 
a passenger steamed into the station. No one was 
there to meet her; no one even expected her. She 
took a taxicab and instructed the chauffeur to con¬ 
vey her to a first-class hotel. She retired at an 
early hour, being somewhat exhausted as a result 
of her long trip. The sun was already peeping in 
through her windows when she awoke in the morn¬ 
ing. It was an inspiring morning, and courage 
seemed to sit firmly in her heart. 

After breakfast she hurried out into the streets 
of San Francisco, ready for the battle, and re¬ 
solved to win. After traversing many blocks, she 
suddenly halted and then turned into a street that 
had all the appearances of being a part of the 
finer residential district. 

Yes,’^ she muttered aloud, ^Hhis is the street.^’ 
Here she would find the wanderer and redeem 
him. She walked slowly on, and appeared to be 
measuring her steps until at last her eye fell upon 
a well-polished placard on the door of one of the 
dwellings on the opposite side of the street. She 
crossed, and with some reluctance mounted the 
brown-stone steps and rang the bell. Receiving no 
32 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


33 


response, she rang again, this time with more suc¬ 
cess. A large robust man opened the door, and in 
a stammering voice she asked him if Dr. Forbes 
was at home. The man bade her enter, and there¬ 
upon ushered her into the waiting-room, inform¬ 
ing her that the doctor was busy, but would soon 
see her. 

A pair of large double doors separated the wait¬ 
ing-room from the examination-room, and imme¬ 
diately above hung a large, life-sized portrait. 
Jeannette’s eyes traveled toward this portrait. 
There was something familiar about it; as a mat¬ 
ter of fact it was the portrait of the man that she 
was seeking. She arose and assumed a position 
somewhat akin to that of a visitor at an art gal¬ 
lery; and so intent was she in her gaze that she 
failed to observe the doors swing asunder, or 
notice the entry of Dr. Forbes. The latter’s voice 
aroused her, and blushing, she said: 

‘‘Excuse me; I could not help looking at it, as 
it reminded me so much of a young physician I 
formerly knew.” 

Her face was flushed, and she was obliged to 
summon forth all her self-control to suppress the 
utterances that escaped from her lips. 

“No, I do not think that you know that chap,” 
Dr. Forbes said assuringly. “He was a chum of 
mine at college; one of the best friends that I ever 
had and one of the most remarkable fellows one 
ever had the pleasure of meeting. Incidentally, 
he happens to be in the city at the present time. ’ ’ 


34 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


Jeannette Arnault appeared to be very much 
interested. 

^‘What can I do for you?’’ Dr. Forbes asked. 

‘^Before informing you of the object of my visit 
to you this morning, I will ask you a question,” 
she said. ‘‘Can you tell me anything more about 
this man?” 

“Assuredly,” he replied, “especially if that will 
do you any good. His father is a wealthy mer¬ 
chant and keeps Jim pretty well supplied with 
earthly goods. This, perhaps, is one of the rea¬ 
sons why he never cares which way the wind blows. 
Perhaps I should not tell this to a mere stranger, 
but when I start to speak about him I just can not 
manage to keep anything back. His portrait here 
recalls to my mind all the olden times with their 
pleasant recollections. This man did me a world 
of good, and I can never forget him, but he is a 
strange sort of fellow, an everlasting mystery. I 
could speak about him indefinitely, but that would 
not change matters any, so let us come to the busi¬ 
ness that concerns yourself.” 

Jeannette Arnault took a tiny card from her 
purse and handed it to him. 

“He told me once that if I ever needed him that 
I should write him,” she said; “but I am sure that 
writing would not have the desired effect, so I 
determined to come in person.” 

Dr. Forbes glanced at the card, read the name 
aloud, and smiled; but Jeannette Arnault heard 
him mutter to himself; 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


35 


“The Prince of Passion.” 

“Where did yon meet this fellow?” Dr. Forbes 
asked. ‘ ‘ How long have yon known him ? ’ ^ With- 
ont waiting for a reply he went on: “Dear lady, 
yon are seeking a flame. No possible good can 
ensne to a woman from an acqnaintance with Jim 
Bnrt. That he is a clever fellow, all well and 
good; bnt yon cannot nnderstand—^yon cannot 
nnderstand. At this very moment he is in the 
company of vile women, always different ones— 
for each new face to him means a new victim, and 
few escape. I sometimes really believe that this 
man has a compact with Satan, so satanic are his 
actions.” 

At this point Jeannette Arnanlt interrnpted 
him. 

“I know everything, Dr. Forbes,” she informed 
him, “bnt tell me how fares it with Alice Doyle, 
one of his latest friends ? ^ ’ 

Forbes looked at her somewhat astonnded, won¬ 
dering whence her knowledge of Jim Bnrt came. 

“Alice Doyle,” he repeated, “why, he deserted 
her in the slnms of this city only a few days ago, 
bnt she deserved it, Miss-” 

‘ ‘ My name is Arnanlt, ’ ’ Jeannette informed him 
after his sndden panse. 

“I have often heard him speak abont yon,” Dr. 
Forbes said; “and he has told me a great many 
nice things abont yon; as a matter of fact, I may 
say that yon are the only woman I have ever heard 
Dr. Bnrt speak abont in a respectfnl manner. 


36 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


No, he is no longer fond of Alice Doyle, but now 
^ends most of his time with a pretty little Nob 
Hill girl. Her father’s mansion harbors him 
daily, and the old gentleman thinks that he has 
made a good catch for his daughter. But my! oh, 
my I what a rude awakening he is going to have, 
or my name is not Forbes. I am sure that he will 
quit her this very day. ’ ’ 

“How do you know that. Doctor?” she queried 
“For the simple reason that Jim Burt leaves 
tor London to-morrow, ’ ’ he replied. ‘ ‘ He told me 
that he was going to tour the world, and then lay 
down to rest; and that in all likelihood we would 
newr see each other again. At any event, he will 
be here at four o’clock this afternoon, and if you 

care to you may be here at that time-” 

At this moment the door-bell rang and a little 
later a young woman entered the office, close be- 
ind whom stalked Burt. Jeannette Arnault 
nearly swooned as she looked at him. Burt, whose 
tace became blood-red, approached her, and in an 
admonishing tone said: 

“Why did you leave Saranac? You had no 
business following me here when you have so much 
good to do elsewhere, especially at Saranac.” 

ihen why did you leave. Dr. Burt«” she 
asked. * 

To Burt she appeared more beautiful than ever 

t ul. The little golden cross was lying on her 
neck. Burt looked at it intently, and then dropped 



THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


37 


his head as though for shame. A moment later 
Burt cast a glance in the direction of the other 
woman. Their eyes met, while a strange look 
came over BurFs countenance. Jeannette Ar¬ 
nault had never seen this look before, hut as she 
saw the bewilderment, the strange effect that it 
had on the other woman, she at once realized its 
significance. 

‘‘That look did the same thing to me once,’^ Dr. 
Forbes remarked. “What are you going to do, 
BurtP’ he asked. 

“Send for a taxi. Jack, and see her on her way 
home; get rid of her, ’ ’ Burt shouted. ‘ ‘ But do not 
ask me any questions. I am not myself. Jack, and 
feel as though I am going mad. ’ ’ 

With which final remark Burt dashed away 
wildly to another room. 

Dr. Forbes, after giving some wholesome advice 
to the woman who had accompanied Burt, bade 
her good-by as he closed the door of the taxi that 
carried her away. A little while later Burt re¬ 
turned to the room, and seated himself in a large 
arm-chair near the window. Outside all was 
dreary, and the rain was falling heavy and fast. 
Looking up at Jeanette Arnault, who now stood 
beside him, he said: 

“You did wrong in coming here; you had an 
excellent position and a very good home, but as 
long as you are here, I presume that you will have 
to make the best of it. If you so desire, I can 
procure you a position at the hospital here, as I 


38 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


am well acquainted with the superintendent, and 
I am sure you will like it very much.’’ 

Dr. Forbes now excused himself, informing 
Burt and Jeannette Arnault that he was obliged 
to make an urgent call upon a patient. After they 
round themselves alone Burt began speaking, and 
in an ironical manner said: 

I am leaving for London to-morrow. Perhaps 
you would care to sail with me, Jeannette. Once 
here we can both be very, very happy—and may 
get married. What do you say f ” 

“Do not speak to me in that manner, Jim 
Bnrt, she rephed in a defiant tone, “I have not 
tallen to your degraded level. I will stay right 
here in San Francisco—for a while, at least—and 
endeavor to learn how to forget you. I am not 
an Alice Doyle, nor am I the kind of woman that 
you have been accustomed to associate with of 
late, and unless you become a better man, I have 
no desire ever to see you again, but if there is the 
slightest spark of manhood left in you, promise me 
that you mil attempt to mend your ways in Lon- 
don. I ^11 not try to keep you back: I do not care 
to do that, but please, Jim, endeavor to be a man ” 
Ihen, handing him a small photograph of herself 
she said; “Keep this, Jim, and look at it some¬ 
times, and when you do, think of the good advice 
ave given you. Eesume your practice of medi¬ 
cine and use those mesmeric forces that you pos¬ 
sess for suffering humanity’s sake. You are a 
great physician and all the world will herald your 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


39 


greatness some day, if yon will only let women and 
strong drink alone. You have sense; yon can 
reason, and should, therefore, act sanely and 
reasonably.’’ 

He was staring at the little golden cross. It 
seemed to shield her from a host of evils. 

Cheer up, Jeanette!” he exclaimed, as though 
the words were strangling him, ‘ ^ some day all will 
come to an abrupt end. ’ ’ 

Jeannette Arnault arose to go. 

must leave now,” she said, ‘‘but if you ever 
need me, just write. You told me the same words 
when you left Saranac; I repeat them to you 
now. ’ ’ 

They parted without further conversation. 
Jeannette returned to her hotel and, going to her 
room, sat there a long while, thinking of what she 
should do next. To her, Jim Burt seemed lost; 
she never expected to hear from him again. She 
did not care whether she did or not just then. He 
was going to London on the morrow, and did not 
even as much as leave her any information as to 
where she could write him. 

That same afternoon Jeannette applied for a 
position at the hospital Burt had mentioned. Dr. 
Forbes was there when she arrived, and knowing 
her mission, took her direct to the superintendent. 
After a brief interview she was instructed to re¬ 
turn and report for work the following morning. 
That evening she addressed a letter to Dr. Ed¬ 
wards, in which she related all her experiences. 


40 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


‘‘Jim is going to London to-morrow/^ she wrote, 
and I must learn, as you have said, to forget 
him.’’ 

The next morning found Jeannette Arnault at 
the post of duty, cheerfully performing the task 
assigned her. She was starting to forget. 


CHAPTER VI 


Weeks fled on one after another, but no news 
reached Jeannette Arnault from London. One 
morning, however, she unexpectedly had the pleas¬ 
ure of having Dr. Forbes call her over the tele¬ 
phone. 

would not have disturbed you so early,he 
said, ‘‘but I received a letter a few moments ago 
from Dr. Burt. He informs me that he arrived in 
London in the best of health, and that he had a 
very good trip across. He simply stated that he 
sent his best regards to everyone. ^ ^ 

This, indeed, was very gratifying to Miss Ar¬ 
nault, but, after all, what did she care!—she was 
learning to forget. 

“Have I really forgotten, or even started to 
forget she asked herself after receiving that 
message. ^^Mon Dieu!^^ she exclaimed in her 
native tongue, “7 forget Jim Burt I Never! 
never!—never! ’ ^ 

While many kind hearts were beating for him 
across the sea, Burt was going the same old 
rounds, even worse than before. At Henley, a 
sporting place in the suburbs of London, he sat 
nightly indulging in the fruits of bitterness, drink, 
and carousing, whiling his time away with Picca- 
41 


42 


THE PEINCE OE PASSION 


dilly girls, products of Eegent Street, and the 
denizens of Leicester Square. 

It was Christmas Eve when he walked into the 
pavilion at Henley. Cheers greeted him on every 
side, for Jim Burt was a good fellow, and made 
friends quickly. 

‘^Ha!^^ shouted a tall Englishman, ^^here comes 
our American friend.^’ 

Yes, Burt was a jolly-good-fellow, a well-met 
sort of a creature, all to his own detriment, and it 
did not require much effort on his part to break 
into London ^s social set. 

In a remote corner of the place, apart from the 
rest of the crowd, sat two handsomely-gowned 
women, one of whom was an actress, the other a 
lady of noble birth, the only real distinction be¬ 
tween the two being that the former was histri¬ 
onically popular, while the other was historically 
noble, but under the skin they both bore relatively 
the same traits and possessed the same desires. 
Most women are actresses, and all are more or less 
noble. Both saw Burt as he entered, and each 
tried to attract his attention first. 

'‘There he is now!^’ remarked the actress. 
"Whom do you mean?^^ queried the other, try¬ 
ing to conceal the anxiety that was written on 
every feature, and pretending that she did not 
know the one to whom her companion made ref¬ 
erence. 

“Jim Burt,” came the response, “the Prince of 
Passion. 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


43 


Burt, all smiles, seated himself at their table. 

‘^Well, Jim, what brings you out to Henley this 
evening?” asked the actress. 

‘‘Just out for a night of it—that^s all,” Burt 
replied and then asked: “Will you join me in a 
drink?” 

‘ ‘ Sure thing! ’ ^ she exclaimed. 

“And how about you, Blondy?” Burt asked the 
other woman. 

‘ ‘ I never drink, ’ ^ she replied. 

“DonT try to palm that kind of stuff off on 
me,” Burt said. “You are going to take a drink 
with me.” 

“Well, if I must, I simply must, I suppose; but 
please donT look at me that way; donT try to 
search for my soul, Jim,” she answered. 

Burt merely smiled. After partaking of several 
drinks, the three of them left the resort together, 
arm in arm. 

Back again to the path so often trod—^back to 
the old, old game: the game that draws you down, 
and down and down. Time, the great calculator, 
sees the soul become infected with cankerous 
growths, and passion becomes the worst infection. 
But what did Jim Burt care about the good advice 
his friends gave him? He had spurned the world; 
had neglected his practice, everything, and all for 
what? 

The next night found Burt back again at Hen¬ 
ley. He was seated at the table with an old 


44 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


Austrian, who bore an air of refinement and cul¬ 
ture. 

“Yes, I think I have seen all of London that I 
care to see,” said Burt, “and it will not be very 
long before I leave it. I’ll leave it to the rest of 
the race that loves the things it offers. I’ll bid all 
the girls good-by to-night, and set out for new 
paths.’’ 

“A man of your experience and learning,” 
said the aged Austrian, “should have greater am¬ 
bitions than , you display. You should go to 
Vienna and round out a course at the clinics there, 
y ou are wrong in your conception of how a man 
ability should conduct himself, 
possess this abominable desire? 
Wny pursue these voluptuous women 

I tell you some¬ 
thing that may interest you, may cause you to be 
more lenient in your condemnation of my actions 

Lr h® o ^ri'tgeport, Connecticut, in the 
g and old U. S. A., what, as it seems to me now 
was quite a number of years ago. While vet a 
mere youth I met a girl that I sincerely loved^ she 
professed a love for me, and I-damned fool that 

parents decided that I 
Jould study medicine and away to college I was 
sent. 1 lett home very reluctantly. I hated to 
I^hld f I loved, the one that 

blit ^ r+n worship, Hved there; 

but my father was a man of great determination 
a stern and harsh sort of being, who said what he 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


45 


meant and meant what he said. I informed the 
girl of my plans, and she encouraged me, spurred 
me on. ‘Seize your opportunity, Jim,' she said, 
‘and do your level best to make good. I'll wait 
for you, and when you return a full-fledged M. D., 
we will link our destinies together. I'll then say 
yes.' 

“I believed every word she spoke, for my faith 
in her was unshakable. Off to college I went. I 
studied hard and long, and fought the battle 
nobly; I struggled along day after day, waiting 
for that moment I could lay claim to the hand of 
the woman that I loved. During the course of my 
study I acquired a very strange power, but of 
this I can say no more. Success crowned my 
efforts, and in due time I was graduated at the 
head of my class. I returned home with a heart 
courageous, and immediately sought out the object 
of my love. My God! What an awakening I had! 
She had duped me; betrayed my confidence. She 
had married another, a man of low station—a 
base, ruthless character, who deserted her a few 
months after marriage. She only lived a short 
while, a miserable and abject creature, and died a 
most horrible death. When I learnt the truth I 
became almost frantic; I started to drink, but 
after a while I calmed down. After my madness 
had departed I swore complete vengeance. One 
night I dreamt of her, a very strange dream. On 
coming out of my dream I awakened, and a very 
fit of terror seized me. I then and there made a 


46 THE PEINCE OF PASSION 

terrible vow. I swore that I would revenge the 
wrong done me. One woman had fooled and de¬ 
ceived me, and all other women would have to pay 
for it. So, there you are, my friend, that is my 
story in detail. I have kept that vow ever since, 
and every woman that has come into contact with 
me from that day, with the exception of one, has 
been the victim of that vow. I have determined 
to travel about and around the world in an en¬ 
deavor to forget, with the desire to perpetuate 
and keep that vow. Your suggestion sounds very 
good to me, and I promise to make Vienna my next 
stop.’’ 

Here Burt ended his narration. 

An hour later Burt and his Austrian friend 
parted company, the latter marveling at all that 
he had heard. Burt shortly thereafter responded 
to the smile of a robust woman, who sat imme¬ 
diately opposite to him. After they had been in 
conversation for a few minutes, the woman re¬ 
marked : 

‘^You speak an excellent German for an Ameri¬ 
can. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” Burt replied, “I am of German descent, 
and was taught the language at an early age by 
my grandmother. All my grandparents were born 
in Germany, but I cannot see where that reflects 
any credit on me. And what is your name ? ” 

‘'Let it suffice and satisfy you to know that I 
am of royal birth, and am a Princess,” she re¬ 
plied. 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


47 


^‘Well, you are speaking to a prince/^ Burt 
said. 

‘‘You do not have any princesses in America, 
do youF’ she asked. 

“No princesses in AmericaBurt repeated. 
“Why every Western wildwood girl, every North¬ 
ern belle, every maiden from down East, and 
every Southern rose is a princess. America! 
Why that^s the home of kings and queens; not 
monarchs that govern by might, but sovereigns 
that rule with love.^^ 

“You are as enthusiastic as you are poetic, 
she remarked; then asked: ‘ ‘ Have you ever been 
in love with a real princess, who in turn has loved 
jouV’ 

“Not yet, but soon,^’ Burt replied. 

Burt left his companion at an early hour the 
next morning, at an hour when toilers were al¬ 
ready on their way to the labors of the day. Men 
and women plodding along to earn the bread of 
honest toil. None but the happy, none but the 
laborer knows the real sweetness of life, the bene¬ 
fits that Heaven showers upon those that struggle 
on day after day to gain a livelihood. Jim Burt, 
the Prince of Passion, did not belong to that class. 

On his way back to the hotel Burt repeated to 
himself time and again the admonition of the aged 
Austrian: “Go to ViennaThat advice kept 
ringing in his ear. To him England meant noth¬ 
ing, offered nothing, and he lost no time in getting 
away from it. 


48 THE PEINCE OF PASSION 

That very day found him on his way to the Aus¬ 
trian capital and in due course of time he arrived 
in the city, filled with new ambitions, new resolves, 
and new determinations. 


CHAPTER VII 


Once again Jim Bnrt roamed about freely and 
engaged in the deepest thought. For the first 
time it occurred to him that he was in a strange 
land, absolutely penniless, and without friends. 
What was he to do next? In what manner could 
he earn enough to carry him on through his jour¬ 
ney? A thought flashed through his mind, and he 
determined upon the instant to seek admission as 
a physician in Vienna’s hospital, one of the finest- 
equipped clinics in the world. 

It was a little after eight o’clock when he en¬ 
tered the magnificent institution, fully assured 
that he would meet with immediate success. An 
aged Austrian met him in the corridor, and, as 
wont with the people of that kingdom, offered him 
the highest courtesy. After an informal intro¬ 
duction, Burt began to impress upon the mind of 
his newly-made acquaintance the object of his 
visit. Seated a few moments later in his office, 
the old gentleman quizzed Burt as to his qualifica¬ 
tions. 

“Young man,’’ said he, “I have been dean ot 
the faculty of this institution for over twenty-five 
years, and have been professor on pathology for 
about seventeen years. For the purpose of your 
49 


50 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


visit, I am pleased to say that at the present time 
we have several openings for a young physician. 
I do not mean thereby that yon will necessarily 
fill one of these vacancies. Yon are no donbt 
aware of the fact that none bnt men of the highest 
integrity and character can exercise their profes¬ 
sion here; one mnst have extraordinary skill and 
ability and the greatest degree of scientific knowl- 
edge before he can find an advanced berth here, 
therefore, I say with all dne respect to yonrself, 
sir that before we can permit yon to enter service 
on the regnlar staff, yon will have to prove to the 
satisfaction of the facnlty yonr qnalifications. In 
order that yon may attain this end, I will give yon 
a two weeks’ trial in the free wards; shonld yon 
show the reqnired degree of learning, that we 
mnst necessarily demand, we will commission yon 
as a regnlar attendant and grant yon a inst 
stipend. ’ ’ ^ 

venerable physician con- 
clnded his remarks, and thanked him for the op- 
portnnity given him to show his ability 
“Doctor,” he said, “I am still a young man, 
but I aru proud to say that I am a graduate of the 
best university in America. I left Harvard with 
e highest honors, and I am more than convinced 
ttiat i will meet the requirements which you de- 

“I truly hope that you will. Dr. Burt, and for 
that reason I am trying you,” continued the old 
professor. “Come now! I will take you through 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


51 


the hospital and get yon acquainted a little, and 
also assign you quarters for yourself. You may 
start in upon your duties to-morrow morning. ’ ^ 

Burt was shown through the cleanest, brightest 
wards he had ever beheld, and introduced to a 
great many physicians, young and old, among 
whom was an old friend and classmate from Har¬ 
vard. 

Cyril Westcott knew Jim’s capacity, and was 
not slow in putting in a good word for him to Dr. 
Sauerman, the superintendent. 

‘‘Just leave him to me. Doctor,” he said, “and 
I will familiarize him with everything and every¬ 
body.” 

A little later Burt and Westcott were talking 
about the olden, golden days. 

Burt’s attention was riveted all the while on a 
little girl in one of the pay wards, where he and 
Westcott were talking. There upon a cot, she lay, 
sobbing bitterly all the while. At last Burt asked; 

“Whose little beauty is that, and what seems to 
be ailing her?” 

“She is a little French girl,” put in Westcott, 
“and has been here for several months. She has 
an incurable case of hip trouble, an affliction that 
dates back to her birth. Her father is a wealthy 
Parisian merchant, and has had the services of 
the best physicians on the Continent, but all in 
vain. We have been unable to do anything what¬ 
ever for the child and will soon send her home 
again. The father is so infatuated with his 


52 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


daughter and so desirous of having her cured that 
he has offered one hundred thousand francs as 
compensation to the physician that conld effect a 
complete cure.” 

Burt approached the cot where the little girl 
was lying, and looked intently upon her face. 

“It seems to me,” he said, “that I have seen 
a woman’s face somewhere on earth that bears 
a great resemblance to this child.” 

He thereupon sat down at the foot of her cot 
and taking her tiny hand in his he asked: 

“What ails my little darling?” 

A soft, sweet voice answered in French: 

“My side hurts me so.” 

Burt listened. That voice was so familiar. He 
uncovered her and thoroughly examined the af¬ 
flicted hip. As he touched her, she uttered a 
piercing shriek, and cried violently, as though in 
terrible agony. Covering her again, he stroked 
her locks of golden hair, and told her not to cry, 
that all would soon be over. 

“What is yonr name?” he asked. 

She softly responded between sobs: 

“ Mignon Arnault. ’ ’ 

“My God!” exclaimed Burt; “I knew it I 
knew it!” 

“What is the matter?” queried Westcott, as 
he noted the expression on Burt’s face and heard 
his exclamation. 

“my, Westcott old friend, this innocent young¬ 
ster IS the sister of a young nurse I learnt 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


53 


to-he stammered at this point, hnt continu¬ 

ing, he said: ‘ H learnt to know at Saranac. I am 
going to cure this child for her sister’s sake, West- 
cott; yes, I vow that I will effect a total cure of 
this angel’s malady. ’ ’ 

‘Hf you do,” replied Westcott, ‘‘you will be 
one hundred thousand francs to the good.” 

“Confound the francs!” Burt hissed back. 
‘ ‘ This happens to be my first moral obligation in 
Europe. But I need your help. Dr. Sauerman 
must give me this chance, and your solicitations 
can do it, I am sure. Send for him and tell him 
that, should I make good as to my qualifications, 
I will render my services to this institution for 
the period of one year without any pay whatso¬ 
ever. I’ll work day and night, do anything, if he 
will only put this little tot in my care for two 
weeks. ’ ’ 

Dr. Sauerman was sent for, and the terms of 
Burt’s offer communicated to him by Dr. West¬ 
cott. 

“Come to my room to-morrow morning. Dr. 
Burt,” he at length said, “and I will give you a 
definite answer. ’ ’ 

Burt kissed the little girl several times, then 
started to leave, whereupon she began crying bit¬ 
terly. When asked by Dr. Sauerman why she wept 
so, she answered, “Please, Doctor, don’t take him 
away from me, ’ ’ all the while pointing to Burt. 

The aged physician scratched his head. What 
did this child know? What led her to incline 



54 


THE PEIHCE OF PASSION 


toward this new prival in the wards 1 He listened 
to her supplications, then looked at Burt with a 
steady eye. Burt met this look earnestly. Within 
five minutes orders were issued by Hr. Sauerman 
to Dr. Westcott. 

^‘See to it at once,^’ he commanded, ‘^that Dr. 
Burt be assigned to room No. 4, and have this 
little ptient placed in the same room. If I am 
not mistaken, something is going to happen,—at 
least, that is my prediction.’’ 

Burt actually wept with delight as he hastened 
to his room. A tidily dressed young woman was 
just in the act of leaving as he entered. 

This is my room, if I am not mistaken?” he 
queried. 


‘‘Are you the new Dr. Burt?” she questioned. 
No. I am the old Dr. Burt, but I am new 
here,” he replied. 

‘‘Then this is your room,” she said smilingly, 
i could use that smile to pretty good advan- 
tage if I cared to,” Burt muttered to himself after 
she had gone, “but I have a big task before me 
now, and a solemn duty to perform, and I am 
kind^’^° carry it out without interruption of any 

‘‘Mignon! Jeannette!” He almost choked as 
he uttered the last name, for next to that invin¬ 
cible power that rules the Universe, that formed 
each part and parcel of the vast world, in which 
he sometimes believed and at other times doubted, 
the name Jeannette was the most sacred to his 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


55 


mind. lie declared, am going to cure 

her for the sake of Jeannette, and may Heaven 
grant me the power to do so; yes, for the sake 
of the woman I-’’ 

He conld not finish the sentence; words failed 
him; besides, they were just bringing in the tiny 
Mignon. 

Mignon’s cot was placed on a parallel with 
Burt^s bed, with a space of about two feet be¬ 
tween. This was in strict compliance with BurFs 
order, as he desired to be near her at any hour 
of the night, and watch her progress. The at¬ 
tendants soon left, and Burt found himself alone 
with the pretty Mignon. She looked at him, and 
smiled. Her beauty, coupled with that smile, sent 
a dart of goodness rushingly to Burt’s soul. Men 
are never so base, never so ruthless, that they for¬ 
get to love innocence. He sat at the foot of her 
cot and, stroking her beaming face, spoke to her 
most tenderly. 

‘‘Little lady!” he commenced, speaking to her 
in French, the knowledge of which he had ac¬ 
quired at college; “we are going to be together 
for a few weeks, and during that time we shall 
see each other very much. I want you to be an 
obedient little lady, and carry out all of my in¬ 
structions, and as a reward I am going to send 
you home to your papa and mamma real soon, a 
strong, healthy little girl. During the day I shall 
be absent at intervals, for I must visit the other 
poor people that are sick, but I shall not forget 


56 THE PRINCE OF PASSION 

that you are waiting for me. You say that you 
are twelve years old, and have always been ill? 
Well, you will soon learn to forget all of that 
when you find out what it is to be like other little 
girls/’ 

Time had already advanced since Burt’s arrival 
at the hospital, for a nurse was entering his room 
mth Mignon^s dinner, informing him at the same 
time that he should go to his, as dinner was served 
daily at five o’clock, on the main floor. Burt par¬ 
took of a very slight meal, then sauntered to the 
garoen, and lit a cigar. He strolled about for 
some time, and was so engrossed in his thoughts 
that he failed to observe Dr. Westcott approach¬ 
ing. 

''Beautiful day!” exclaimed the latter, as he 
tapped Burt on the shoulder. 

“Yes, and pretty warm at that,” was Burt’s 
response. 

“By the way, Jim,” queried Westcott, “are 
you still possessed of that wonderful power that 
you so often exhibited at the university?” 

“Don’t let us talk of that,” said Burt, “for the 
only power worth the having is the one that we 
can exercise for good and right.” 

A half-hour later Burt was back in his room 
^th the little Mignon, who laughed and seemed 
to be happy at his return. 

“Hello there, my little Jeannette!” he shouted. 
That is not my name, ’ ’ she replied. ‘ ‘ Tell me 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


57 


Dr. Burt,^^ she went on cnrionsly, ‘^why did you 
call me Jeannette 

He thought for a moment and then said, ‘‘Be¬ 
cause you look so much like Jeannette, and I love 
her and love that name.’’ He approached her 
cot and, taking the covers off, said: “Now, then, 
we are going to start to get you well.” And with 
this remark he bared her entire left side. A nurse 
entered the room and, seeing Burt with his pa¬ 
tient, inquired whether he was going to perform 
an operation. 

“Do you desire instruments. Doctor?” she 
asked. 

“I am going to operate without the use of in¬ 
struments,” he replied, and continuing, said: “I 
believe that many human ills can be cured without 
resorting to the knife. There are too many butch¬ 
ers willfully and wantonly applying cruel methods 
for no other reason than to sate their own experi¬ 
mental desires. I shall not draw one drop of blood 
from this virgin body, but shall adopt my own 
peculiar way of doing things.” 

By a sudden twitch and turn of his right hand, 
followed by a violent rubbing downward of the 
affected hip, he caused the little patient to swoon. 
Twice or thrice she jumped, and cried as though 
she were undergoing terrific agony. Ultimately 
she entered into a state of complete unconscious¬ 
ness. The blood began rushing through each and 
every one of her tiny veins, and her flesh grew 
crimson. 


58 


the prince of passion 


You see, Nurse, ’' Burt exclaimed, ‘ 'more mat- 
instances, and noth- 
3 I i f® conducive to this end than the free 
and voluntpy circulation of the blood.” 

for tllis ^ hopeless and remediless case; 

ilZset ™ affliction,” she 

tolTd “d watch 

toward what success or failure the finger of 

destiny shall point,” Burt returned in a folemn 

f ^®+ of voice; then, after covering his little m 

thaT peaceful slumLr 

that childhood enjoys, he entered the huge “S 

|nS-roo„, by a, hadLiS 

“My name is Praulein Reis, and I am to Kp 
your assistant while here/^ remarked 

they t,„"d Ssil. ”,„T 

g ancingathim with a sharp coap d’tsil. 

wd^g” aZg“trL"f; i:xr^ i‘:„i 

Alter reading for a short while Burt rpt.nv^ ,1 
dream, and thoughts „t li,. be .„h.„Ted7he„ ot 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


59 


can rest with a peaceful mind? How she resem¬ 
bles her sister as there she sleeps! ’ ’ 

He bent over and kissed the child. Her face 
was as warm as the rays of the summer’s sun. 
He listened to her heart-beat. It was as regular 
as could be. 

Next morning found Burt at his post. He soon 
made friends of those with whom he came into 
contact and was soon sought by many. Daily he 
rounded his course in the wards, first from one 
to the other, then back to his room and little 
Mignon. A week had elapsed since his arrival at 
the hospital. What had he accomplished during 
that time ? That was the question on this particu¬ 
lar night that he asked himself before retiring,— 
but fell asleep before he had solved the problem. 
He had not slept very long before he felt a tiny 
hand upon his forehead. He jumped from his bed 
with a startled expression on his face, and looked 
in sheer wonder at the spectacle he beheld, for 
there beside him stood the pretty Mignon, the 
little creature that had never walked or stood in 
her hfe. Half amazed, half doubting, he clasped 
her in his arms, and kissed her time and again. 

‘‘How comes it that you have left your cot, 
ma chere?” he joyfully asked, embracing her with 
all his might. 

With both of her dehcate little arms about his 
neck, she answered: 

“I awoke and saw you lying on your bed. I 
looked upon your face and saw something so beau- 


60 


THE PEIHCE OF PASSION 


tiful there, a something that I cannot understand, 
and cannot explain. You were speaking, talking 
in your sleep, and twice you uttered my sister ^s 
name, and followed it up with the words ‘for her 
sake.^ 

Burt seated himself in a large rocker, and 
placed the little one upon his lap. She looked up 
into his large sparkling eyes. 

“You love Jeannette, don’t you?” she asked. 

And, she continued, “when she learns that you 
have cured her little sister, I am sure that she is 
going to love you, too. I knew that I was going 
to get well the first minute I paw you, and it seems 
that God just sent you here for my sake, hut you 
said in your sleep that you were going to cure me 
for Jeannette’s sake. Tell me. Doctor, would I 
have remained a cripple all my life if it were not 
for Jeannette?” 

^ Burt wiped a teardrop from his eye, and kiss¬ 
ing her lips, said: 

“You are an intelligent child, my dear, and can 
understand what I am going to say to you; but 
you must promise to be quiet and keep all that 
1 say in strict confidence. I am at once a bad 
man and a good fellow. That part of me which 
IS goodness is Heaven’s blessing; the bad is na¬ 
ture’s fault. When you have once grown up to 
noble womanhood, and have learned what threads 
are woven on life’s spinning-wheel, you, too, will 
then know that in each and every one of us there 
IS some fault that we cannot overcome. My dear 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


61 


there is not a creature in all this world without 
some defect, some grievous fault. In me are im¬ 
prisoned impassioned hopes, the yearnings of an 
unsatisfied soul in quest of the,solution of the great 
mystery of life. Some day you may learn from your 
sister the entire story of a man who has drained 
the cup of passion and pleasure to the very dregs 
of bitterness; but for the present you must rest 
contented with knowing that I love you immensely, 
as much as I could my own daughter, were I so 
blessed. Jetonette must not, cannot love me. 
You must not ask me again if I love her, and you 
must never mention my name to her. In a little 
while you will be entirely well, and then you will 
return to Paris, never to see Dr. Burt again; 
but, remember, Jeannette is never to learn from 
you the name of the man that cured you; you 
must never utter that name. You must now sleep 
for a few hours, for sleep will help you to grow 
real strong.’^ 

With this final admonition, Burt placed her on 
her cot, and again examined her hip. One glance 
assured him that Mignon Arnault would soon be 
a strong, healthy girl. 


OHAPTER VIII 

A BEAUTIFUL to-moirow had dawned on old 
Vienna when Burt awakened. Mignon was still 
asleep, but he did not arouse her from her slum- 
bers. He knew that he had conquered again, and 

How 'ventured to the garden below. 

How long he had been there he knew not, when 
-Ur. bauerman came upon him. 

‘‘So there you are!” he exclaimed, as he sat 
beside Burt. “I want to have a little talk with 

Zselt 1 "’ 

ringing upL the elr^y morSng 
‘‘Dr. Burt! Dr. Burt!” 

And, running toward him as fast as any little 
girl could run was Mignon, the cripple o/a few 
days ago Look!” screamed Burt, with a cry 
of delight as she ran into his welcome arms and 
smothered his face with kisses. 

at^urt^wdr*"" then 

of h£ c.Zwr“ 

man, Burt,” he said “and 
that IS why I have sought you out this morniW 
I have already telegraphed to Monsieur Arnault’ 

62 ’ 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


63 


the child father, to come to Vienna at once, hut 
I did not tell him the reason for his coming. He 
will arrive sometime to-morrow morning and 
when he does I am sure that you will behold the 
happiest and most grateful man in the world. 

^‘You will go with us to Paris, Dr. Burt, will 
you notr^ interrupted Mignon. 

“No, no, ma chere petite,^’ answered Dr. Sauer- 
man, “he cannot leave the hospital.^’ 

“No, my dear,’’ said Burt, “I cannot go to 
Paris just yet, but I will be there some day in the 
near future to see my little Mignon.” 

Dr. Burt was again asserting himself. 

“You will not be able to go any where for some 
while yet. Dr. Burt,” said Dr. Sauerman. 

“You have given me a two weeks’ trial,” an¬ 
swered Burt, “but I did not promise that I would 
remain any longer than that.” 

“That is quite true. Dr. Burt,” returned the 
superintendent, his face growing somewhat red, 
“but I also told you that if you made good, you 
would be enlisted in the regular service. We need 
you here among these poor unfortunates. You 
are an able physician, and to show you that I fully 
appreciate your ability and skill, I will give you 
a contract for five years, to which I will attach a 
yearly pay of ten thousand dollars in your own 
money. I am sure you will not decline such a 
flattering offer, for there is not a man in this in¬ 
stitution receiving such a fee. You will remain 
with us, will you not I” 


64 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


I must have time in which to consider your 
very liberal offer, and will give you a final answer 
within a short while,” Burt assured Dr. Sauer- 
man, who thereupon returned to the hospital, tak¬ 
ing the little Mignon with him. 

When Burt found himself alone once more, he 
began thinking in a serious manner. He had no 
money worth while talking about, and no credit. 
What was he to do but remain. A thought flashed 
trough his mind. Westcott had told him that 

^ed'^thn* r offered a reward of one hun- 

onl francs to the physician that would 

and he had truly effected a 
cure. He had earned that reward. Suddenly he 
arose from the bench he had occupied and^ L 
addressing someone, cried out: 

11 be hanged before I take one penny of 
Arnault’s money.” or 

his^room^ ^^andered toward 

Jd^ySs.'' ’ t'^aaty 

“Good-morning, Doctor!” she remarked as she 
smiled at him. “I have been looking fo? you 
ryw ®re, as I wanted to deliver these papers 
to you. While going through your room T «If 
dentally brushed up against your grip, and threw 

fe 7r- f ‘^ast after Jcldig them up 

to deliver them to you in person ” ^ 

ea?efullv°''“Wr fexamined them 
carefully. Why, I am as lucky as a fellow can 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


65 


be/’ he ejaculated, as he saw ten crisp American 
Express Company’s checks for fifty dollars each 
lying in his hand. ^^Why I am surprised at your 
find, Nurse, for I never knew that I had a one of 
them left. I thought that I had used them all. 
You see when a fellow is flush he gets a little reck¬ 
less, and just don’t care how he handles his money, 
but,—gosh! I’m darned glad I was reckless. 
This is a good joke on me; and now I know that 
I’ll soon get out of Vienna,” he said in one breath. 

“And who is she?” interrupted Fraulein Eeis, 
the nurse, pointing to a photograph, the face of 
which peered from among the papers in Burt’s 
hand. 

“Why, she is-” Burt paused. “If you will 

come down into the garden with me I will tell you 
all about her.” 

Once there he bade the nurse be seated. 

“Why, you look just like a good fairy all 
dressed in white,” he said. 

“That’s very nice,” she replied; “but you have 
not told me about your little pale-faced friend.” 

“She is the fairest flower that blooms in Amer¬ 
ica,” he commenced. “She was not raised there, 
but was transplanted to the Land of the Free to 
bloom in all her splendor. Her smile is the per¬ 
fume that permeates the very air one breathes; 
her look is a balm that soothes the soul; she is 
as fair as the sacred lily that unfolds it’s purity 
at Eastertide; she is a woman. I cannot tell you 
her name, for like that of the Creator, it should 



66 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


not be uttered in vain. I loved her, love her, and 
shall love her even until eternity, until the dawn 
01 a new creation.’’ 

“How is it that you are not by her side?” 
queried Burt’s companion. “A man’s place is at 
tne side of the woman he loves.” 

“Well, it’s just this way,” he repUed; “I am 
o a nomadic disposition, and cannot remain any- 

I have 

not told the young lady that I loved her well 
enough to be with her at all times.” 

IIAnd will you never tell her?” she asked. 

Some day, perhaps,—some day,” he answered 
^ nothing now. 

+l myself of some faults before I can 
claim the hand of the woman whose very eye see^ 
to be my guiding star.” seems 

Burt took the nurse’s hand in his, and passion- 

penetrated That look was enough. He moved un 

?eck\-” ^'"‘Lplacing his arm around he? 
neck, kissed her. How many times he kissed her 

hi^ Vhev^a7’ hissed 

?usheJ?n\- to the hospital. Burt 

rushed to his room, his very heart on fire He 

“0 ■'“t brw 

cri';? 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


67 


Tarquin’s lust was sated upon the fair Lucrece, 
while heaviest snows have melted under the rays 
of voluptuous sums, hut there was no end to 
Burt^s desires. 

Fraulein Eeis entered his room and expressed 
her surprise at seeing him in such an excited con¬ 
dition. Sitting down at the foot of his bed, she 
asked him if he felt ill, and tenderly placed her 
hand upon his forehead. 

‘‘For the sake of your own dear self. Nurse, 
and for my sake, do not touch me,’’ he shouted, 
“for a woman’s touch is poison to my form and 
cankers my very existence.” 

She took advantage of the situation, and bend¬ 
ing over him, she kissed him time and again. He 
arose and was about to seize her in his arms, but 
just at this moment little Mignon came running 
in. Burt grew ashen pale as he saw the innocent 
one facing him. Her look sent a general calm 
over him. Burt turned to the nurse and bade her 
leave the room, with the instruction that she 
should never court a living flame. 

The rest of that day Burt went his rounds 
through the wards, smiling here and administer¬ 
ing there, causing the sunshine of his cheerful dis¬ 
position to invade the hearts of those sick unfor¬ 
tunates, who looked upon him as a source of sal¬ 
vation. They all admired him and beheld in him 
some good, something bounteous. In the most 
hideous being we find at times an all-redeeming 
feature, and Jim Burt had his redeeming feature. 


68 


the prince op passion 


Sml^n marvelous good that over- 

d^Znt society 

not fully agree on that point. 

mood' “"f* Burt in a very happy 

mood. Stooping over his traveling grip, he ^as 

then witn“"^“^ 

“To Sv replaced them. 

/,«/ said aloud, “I am going to bid 

«M/ wiedersehen to old Vienna, and see how things 

pleasure in the open for everyone; so, why should 
I dream the hours away within four walls [ Then 
again, this confounded nurse will haunt me in 

doS Lr- 

Come in!” he commanded, whereupon Dr 

sr,ZTr • *“«»”»" »>■»■»««« 

Bon matin !said flip Q+vor^rv^^ • 
voice. stranger, m a resonant 

p.Sr„‘pZ“ Jae.*!™ “ “P'""!"- »( 

thr£rpr„fre"a4DfB“urf“™^ 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


69 


^‘You, sir, are a most wonderful man,^^ continued 
the stalwart Parisian; ‘^and to prove my appre¬ 
ciation of the faithful service you have rendered 
my little one and self, here, sir, is my check, not 
for one hundred thousand francs, hut twice that 
amount.’’ 

Burt assumed a dramatic pose and said: 

have not cured your little girl for the reward 
you offered. I did it for a reason that far exceeds 
the wealth of all France, hut for what reason, that 
you shall never know. Justly speaking, this 
money is not due me, since I am hut a servant in 
this institution, catering to the wants of the sick 
and needy, and in that capacity I only performed 
a servant’s duty, and no more. In the face of that 
fact I must decline your most generous offer, 
monsieur, and will only ask that you endow this 
wonderful institution with the amount you offer 
me, for I will not accept one franc of it.” 

Dr. Sauerman stood dumbfounded, while Mig- 
non’s father thanked Burt again and again in the 
humblest manner. 

''You are as noble as you are wonderful. Doc¬ 
tor, and should you ever visit Paris, you must,— 
you simply must come to see us. ’ ’ 

After a few other remarks Burt hade the 
humble and generous-hearted father farewell, and 
obligated him to promise never to utter his name 
to a living soul. Mignon came running into the 
room all dressed up, and sprang upon Burt’s 
shoulder. 


70 THE PEINCE OF PASSION 

‘‘I am now going home to Mamma,” she said, 
and have come to kiss you good-bye.” 

^ Oood-hy, my precious one,” sobbed Burt. 

Always be a good little girl, and when you grow 
up to be a big, noble woman, you must not forget 
loves httle angels like ySu, 

Sometimes in your prayers to Heaven mention my 

hisTfflf 1 -*^ God to deliver poor Dr. Burt from 
his affliction, as he delivered you of yours. 

tlonfd Mgfl”"* ‘>‘0 

“Yes, yes, my pretty one,” Burt replied: “all 

nature ^ Hsd°r'' ^^<1 

h!;! '1 otherwise, I could not 

Sf I “erely he medium 

through which Heaven acted. Now run aCg ?o“ 
Daddy IS waiting, and don’t forget your premise 
0 keep the name of the man who cured you of 
your affliction a secret.” y u ot 

An hour later Jim Burt stood in the elaborately 

L hT„a ‘'®“ "O. Ms i'g 

I *?*^.*^ determined to go. Dr 

bnwA IS a very great disappointment- 

^ ^ apon your remaining ’’ 

turn, I shall be ready at all times to receive you 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


71 


the equivalent of one thousand American dollars. 
Take it, sir, and accept my best wishes for your 
future.’’ 

Burt, having taken the check, under protest, 
and having bid Dr. Sauerman a last good-by, was 
on his way to pastures new. Fraulein Eeis almost 
ran into him as he left the superintendent’s office. 

^‘So you are leaving us,” she said, “and where 
are you going?” 

Burt smiled. 

“I am going to Berlin,” he replied, “where, as 
men say, the women are so beautiful, where folly 
and laughter sway the soul, and life is but a gala 
round of pleasure.” 

And then he left, without even saying farewell. 


CHAPTEE IX 


That night at his hotel Burt determined upon 
Berlin as his next point of destination. Seated 
alone in his room, he reviewed the past few 
months. They were at once a hideous nightmare 
and an age of happiness. He had intermixed vice 
and virtue, and analyzing them both in his mind, 
he found that the one balanced the other. There 
were Alice Doyle and the beautiful girls he had 
met in England and Fraulein Eeis, and last 
but not least the noble Jeannette. What did 
t^y all mean to him ? They each had pronounced 
m great, while to him greatness was something 
always accompanied by weakness in some form 
or the other and while he shattered idols here 
he performed great deeds elsewhere. He was de¬ 
structive and likewise constructive; tearing down 
for his own pleasure and building up for human- 
ity s happiness. Virtue to him meant nothing 
and while he did not seek it nor mingle where ft 
could be found, he had never unveiled it. He con¬ 
sidered it a thing to admire but preferred its 
opposite. Happiness he attributed to virtue, and 
p ensure to vice,—and voluntarily chose the latter 
What could it matter to anyone what he did? His 
pleasure brought its resulting pain to him alone. 

72 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


73 


He had cured the little Mignon of a hideous mal¬ 
formation, and had performed many other almost 
impossible surgical feats, and now, as he sat there 
visualizing, the face of that little Mignon appeared 
before him, and in it he saw the face of the 
womanly Jeannette, the woman he could not de¬ 
spoil. Again he heard her pleading with him not 
to go away, and saw the tears that washed her 
great big eyes, eyes through which her soul had 
spoken to him; and try as he might to wipe away 
all memory of her, the image persisted in remain¬ 
ing. 

A sharp knock at his door brought Burt sud¬ 
denly to his feet, and opening the door he became 
astounded to see Dr. Sauerman enter. 

‘‘Young man,’^ began the aged scientist, “I am 
prompted only by the highest motives in making 
this call. I have thought matters, over very seri¬ 
ously since I saw you last, and am determined 
that you are acting a little too rashly in leaving 
our institution. Suffering humanity needs'yotir 
help,—needs it now more than ever. Think of the 
thousands upon thousands of unfortunat^men in¬ 
jured upon the battlefields while fighting the 
empty and meaningless battles of quarreling 
sovereigns! Think of the vast field of opportunity 
wherein you may yet go forth as a world leader! 
Science demands that men of your caliber give to 
humanity all that you possess in the way of knowl¬ 
edge, and here you are shutting the door upon 
opportunity and sealing your ear against the cry 


74 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


of a bleeding, suffering people. I want you to 
reconsider matters and make up your mind to 
return to us.^’ 

Burt thought and thought deeply before he gave 
vent to the slightest utterance, then made the fol¬ 
lowing reply: 

am somewhat grieved. Doctor, at this un¬ 
necessary condescension, and while I appreciate 
the consideration you so exquisitely express, and 
realize the good I could do, yet I must repeat most 
emphatically that I cannot remain in Vienna. 
While I have not determined upon any set plan 
for the immediate future, I am, however, going 
in quest of other pursuits and shall leave for Ber¬ 
lin within the next day or so. ’ ’ 

Dr. Sauerman saw that all pleading with Burt 
was in vain, but struck immediately upon a new 
ruse,—one which would hold Burt for a while, 
during which time he might change his mind. 

‘‘Well then,^’ he said, “as long as you wiU not 
remain with us, I will ask that you do me one 
favor before leaving.’’ 

“If I can,” Burt replied. 

“There is a very stubborn case at the hospital 
that none of us has been able to understand, and 
which has us baffled in every aspect,” Dr. Sauer¬ 
man informed Burt. 

“There are plenty of that kind of cases,” was 
the latter’s reply. 

“Do you remember the young woman in Ward 
F?” Dr. Sauerman asked. 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


75 


There were several young women in that 
ward, if I recall correctly, but come to your story. 
Doctor,’^ Burt retorted. 

want you to diagnose this case for me, if 
possible, and see if there is anything that can be 
done for this young woman. 

Burt assented with a smile. 

There is something that can be done for every 
young woman, he remarked, as he left the hotel 
with Dr. Sauerman. 

Burt arrived at the hospital at a very late hour 
and expressed his desire to wait until the morning 
for further action. 

^ ‘ I would like very much to have Fraulein Ries 
assist me while here, and you may send her to my 
room at once,” was Burt's request. 

A little while later Fraulein Ries entered his 
room. 

knew you would come back,” she said as a 
smile of complete satisfaction radiated all over 
her big, round face. 

‘'Be that as it may,” Burt replied; ‘‘but tell 
me who this particular patient in Ward F happens 
to be.” 

“A very queer sort of girl indeed, and, to tell 
you the truth, I think that all of her trouble is 
imaginary,” she said. 

'*If that is really the case, I presume we will 
have to administer a large quantity of mental 
therapeutics,” Burt laughingly interposed. 

“If you do not mind I will tell you what I gath- 


76 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


ered from her this afternoon in a long conversa¬ 
tion in which she engaged me,’’ Franlein Ries 
said‘with some hesitancy. 

‘‘That might help some,” Burt assured her and 
he commanded her to repeat what she had been 
told. 

After informing Burt that she considered the 
girl’s statement as being ridiculous, Fraulein Eies 
proceeded to tell what seemed to her the most 
forceful parts of the conversation. “This girl is 
only eighteen years old and possesses inordinate 
desires. She is a virgin in the strictest sense, but 
confided to me that she has an unappeasable long¬ 
ing, a longing that nearly drives her to madness. 
Since the age of twelve she has been aflame with 
this longing, and on numerous occasions felt as 
though she would strangle herself. As a matter 
of fact she has made two such attempts since 
coming here. Other girls, she remarked, sated 
their desires, and though often tempted herself 
had never gelded to temptation. I advised her 
to get married, but she informed me that she cared 
for only one man, who loved her very much, the 
one man who had contributed more to her present 
condition than anything else, but that it was prac¬ 
tically impossible for him to marry, due to his 
present status. That his love had held her harm¬ 
less and spotless, although for him and only him 
she would surrender everything dear and sacred 
to her, and that in the hope of obtaining him all 
for herself at some time in the future, she was 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


77 


saving herself all for him. I told her she was 
doing the right thing, and would never regret it; 
that girls who yield to temptations have plenty 
of cause for regret in after life; that men soon 
learn to forget them, and regard them as noth¬ 
ing/' 

‘^Experience has proven a pretty good teacher 
to you, Fraulein,'^ Burt said with a trace of irony, 
“but I will bet that this girl's condition is brought 
about by some growth or other which we will soon 
locate. At any rate, my orders are that this pa¬ 
tient be taken to the operating room at seven 
o'clock to-morrow morning, and see to it that she 
gets no food other than a glass of warm milk 
until I give further instructions." 

Promptly at seven the next morning Burt was 
in readiness. His patient lay before him. A care¬ 
ful examination convinced him that his conclusion 
of the night before was correct. For two hours 
he labored incessantly over her, and then had her 
sent back to the ward. 

“Well, what was the trouble. Dr. Burt?" asked 
the aged Dr. Sauerman as Burt entered his office. 

“You may laugh at what I am about to say, but 
the truth of the whole matter is that a small goiter 
has been responsible for all this poor girPs 
troubles, and both the goiter and the condition it 
has caused have been effectually removed. Give 
her liquid foods only, for a week or ten days, and 
after that she may resume her regular diet and 
go about her business. Advise her to wait until 


78 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


Mr. Husband can change his status and marry 
her, and inform her that her adviser is off for 
Berlin,’^ Burt jestingly remarked as he bade Dr. 
Sauerman a final farewell. 


CHAPTER X 


The train that brought Jim Burt into Berlin 
pulled into the Priedrichstrasse Bahnhof at half¬ 
past three in the afternoon. The weather was de¬ 
lightful considering the fact that January had 
arrived. Berlin is a city where the elements are 
very heterogeneous, and where one feels lost 
should Jupiter Pluvius fail betimes to wreak forth 
his aqueous wrath. 

Burt hailed a taxi-cab and instructed the chauf¬ 
feur to convey him to the Hotel Victoria,—^which 
now happens to be a cafe. Arriving at the hotel, 
and obtaining a room to his liking, he returned to 
the clerk’s desk and registered. 

‘‘You are an American, Herr DoctorT’ blurted 
the clerk in a gruff voice. 

“Yes,” Burt replied with a trace of irony in his 
voice, “and I am damned proud of it.” 

He thereupon dashed away to room number 
twenty, and being fatigued from his wearisome 
trip, threw himself upon the bed, and dozed away 
for several hours. Upon arising, he partook of 
an unusually large dinner. 

Night with all of its dazzling splendor had crept 
over the German capital, and large masses of 
people had assembled in the streets. Women by 
79 


80 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


the hundreds came promenading up and down old 
Priedrichstrasse, and at all the cafes and caba¬ 
rets were large gatherings of jovial Germans. 
Burt’s hotel was situated at the corner of Pried¬ 
richstrasse at a point where that street is inter¬ 
sected by that world-famous thoroughfare known 
as Unter den Linden. To the left arose the dome 
of the Imperial Palace. To the right lay the 
beautiful Thiergarten and the Reichstag. Burt 
hesitated for a moment as to which way he should 
go; then stepped back into the lobby of the hotel 
and called up an old friend. 

“Hello! Is this No. 106 Belle Alliance 
Strasse?’’ he shouted hurriedly. A voice at the 
other end must have assured him of the fact that 
he was properly connected for he continued: 
“Well, I am glad I caught you in, Bruno old boy. 
This is Jim Burt. I just struck town, and surely 
would be glad to see you. I’m stopping at the 
Victoria and want you to come around in a jiffy.’’ 

He then walked to the entrance of the hotel. A 
small, well-uniformed boy stood at the entrance, 
eager to relieve prospective patrons of their lug¬ 
gage. Burt, upon approaching him, asked: 

“Are there any good shows in town at pres¬ 
ent?’’ 

“Yes, sir,’’ came the quick response. “If you 
want to see a real good show, go down to Charlot- 
tenberg, at the Theatre des Westens and you will 
get more than your money’s worth. ‘The Merry 
Widow, the operetta that started the entire uni- 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


81 


verse dancing is haying a revival there, and I am 
sure you will like it,—^if you have not yet heard 
it/^ 

‘ ‘ Thanks, ’ ^ Burt replied. ‘ ^ I guess I dl have to 
see it before I leave, as I am extremely fond of 
merry widows, anyhow. ’ ’ 

At this point Bruno Krottnaurer, Burt ^s friend, 
arrived. 

have kept my promise, old man,^’ Burt said, 
‘Hor when I told you aboard ship coming over that 
I would call you up if I ever landed in the metrop¬ 
olis, I meant just exactly what I said.’’ 

sure am glad you got here,” Bruno an¬ 
swered, “and we certainly will paint this town 
red before you leave again. I have been stopping 
with my aunt since my arrival here, and have lost 
myself amid the charms of champagne-climated 
Berlin. I cannot even picture to myself any more 
how Chicago looks, so enamored have I become 
with my present surroundings. You are looking 
great, and it sure does make a fellow feel good to 
see you after such a long lapse of time. I have 
not seen an American since I bid you good-by.” 

“Where the deuce are all those women coming 
from?” Burt questioned. 

“Women!” shouted Bruno. “Why, man, Ber¬ 
lin is the real place for women, and very pretty 
ones at that. They go skipping and tripping along 
old Friedrichstrasse from early evening to dawn, 
like a swarm of bees, and they all sting just like 
bees if you are not real careful. Let us throw our- 


82 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


selves among them, and beguile a few hours away 
with mirth and merriment. I happen to know your 
love for the frail ones, and know that there is 
something about a woman that makes Burt love 
her, but I believe that every man is a Burt when 
it comes to loving a fascinating woman. ’ ’ 

Burt smiled as he replied; 

‘‘Each and every one of them is fascinating to 
me,’’ he replied. 

The two friends then plunged into a crowd of 
young women, and strolled idly along until they 
reached Leipzigerstrasse. 

“They know that we are Americans,” Burt 
said, “for they are keeping close to our heels, and 
the one in lavender is chattering to her companion 
in what she calls English.” 

“They are all unfortunates,” interposed Bruno, 
—“all of them are women of the streets, beyond 
all hope and past all redemption.” 

“I do not care to acquire the friendship of any 
of them,” Burt remarked, “for while I love 
women immensely—I only love those that are 
really lovable. I never cared for a brazen 
woman and never will; for as wild as I am, I still 
recognize a happy medium. To love and embrace 
women is my chief desire, is my life, but I simply 
cannot and will not place this tribe in the cate¬ 
gory of women that I admire, still, I cannot agree 
with you when you say that they are all beyond 
hope and past redemption. Simply because they 
are children of the gutters, my friend, does not 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


83 


deprive them of being classified as human beings, 
nor signifies that they are past hope and redemp¬ 
tion. A woman is no less a woman hecanse of her 
infirmities, and I am sure that if yon were to in¬ 
vestigate the careers of these poor ones, yon 
wonld find that the real canse of their wayward¬ 
ness is man. My close contact with woman has 
tanght me that not a single one of them has so 
abandoned life and the ideals of womanhood that 
she is beyond the power of redemption. Every 
one of them can shake otf the slime of the gutters, 
if she were permitted to do so. The chief tronhle 

is, that a well-garmented and handsome chap 
comes along, and instead of showing a fellow- 
creatnre the easy way to peace and happiness, he, 
by artfnl treachery, sends her down to an untimely 
end, while he remains the gentleman. I am not 
a moralist, Brnno, hnt I do stand for justice. A 
woman is prone to weakness, while men are strong 
and beguiling. I have tasted bitter fruit, and 
ought to know. You can't always blame the girl; 
for it's pretty tough, when you come to think of 

it, that a young girl gets a weekly wage of a few 
paltry dollars from her wealthy department-store 
employer, and is obliged to pay her hoard and 
dress herself out of a scanty and meager sum. 
It can't he done. It is at this stage of her exist¬ 
ence that some wicked-minded man happens along 
and sates his voluptuous appetite on some poor 
daughter of circumstance, and just like the beau- 


84 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


tiful Corisande, she falls a prey to a modern 
Henry of Navarre. ’ ^ 

^‘Well, what shall we do next?’’ Bruno asked. 

‘‘Let us get out of this mob,” Burt replied. “I 
have never seen such an unsightly landscape, such 
a pageantry of lost souls. Zimhalist is playing 
at the conservatory, and I would like to hear him; 
there our ears will be compensated for the injury 
our eyes have recently suffered.” 

With this remark the friends hurried away. 
They soon reached the conservatory. It was well- 
tilled, almost crowded, but they managed to get 
two choice seats that had been reserved for others 
and not called for in time. 

It cannot be doubted that the Germans are a 
music-loving people. They have produced a 
Wagner and a Bach, a Beethoven and a Men¬ 
delssohn; all masters of harmony,—that sort of 
harmony which binds the soul of man with the 
beauties of nature and makes him all the more 
the man. Zimbalist had just completed Mendels¬ 
sohn’s Rondo as Burt turned to his friend and 
said jokingly: 

“What do you think of the damsel sitting along¬ 
side of me?” 

Bruno glanced at her hurriedly, and replied; 

“Divine!” 

After Zimbalist had played with excellent tech¬ 
nique, the “Meditation” from “Thais,” the young 
girl became really jubilant. 

“No wonder that Alma Gluck fell in love with 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


85 


him!’’ she ejaculated, in her excitement accident¬ 
ally brushing Burt’s shoulder with her hand. 

He looked at her and smiled. 

She apologized. Her apology opened up an 
avenue to conversation, and after that Burt paid 
but little if any attention to what was being 
played. The performance eventually came to an 
end, and as the crowds surged toward the en¬ 
trance, Burt lingered behind. 

‘‘To-morrow at three, under the Linden,” he 
said, as he bade her good-night. For some 
minutes Burt and his friend exchanged notes on 
this and that and the girl, and shortly after 
parted. 

As choicest liqueurs are fermented from bitter¬ 
est fruits, so good endeavors may generate at 
times within a mind where decadence has devel¬ 
oped its seed. Peculiar thoughts passed through 
Burt’s mind as he sauntered up and down the 
Linden the next day at three o ’clock. The lindens, 
bereft of their stately summer garb, stood forth 
in august and austere majesty. Beneath one of 
these trees Burt espied his acquaintance of the 
night before, as she sat there reading a magazine. 
It was warm, despite the fact that February was 
only a few days off. She smiled as she beheld 
him approaching. To Burt a woman’s smile 
meant so much,—it even surpassed the warmth 
of the sunshine. He at once realized that she was 
one of the questionable ones, one of the crowd 
that he had beheld the night before. Here was 


86 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


his opportunity for making a strange test, the test 
that would carry out his conviction that woman 
at any stage is redeemable, hopeful, and worthy 
of redemption. 

After they had discussed various matters, Burt 
asked: 

^Hs this your native cityT^ 

^‘No, indeed,^’ she replied, was born at 
Halle, a beautiful little town in Saxony, and I 
guess you have heard tell of Saxony,—that is 
where the prettiest girls in the world are born.’^ 

Burt smiled as he nodded his head affirmatively, 
have heard of it,’’ he replied, ^‘and your face 
illustrates the truth of your statement.” 

‘^Ho you propose to remain in Berlin for any 
length of time, Mr.-she asked, coming sud¬ 

denly to a halt, and after pausing for a moment 
asked Burt his name. 

Burt extracted a tiny card-case from his vest 
pocket and taking his card therefrom handed it 
to her. 

presume that I shall remain some little 
while,” he said. 

''That will be splendid!” she replied, her face 
seeming to speak delight. "Perhaps we can be¬ 
come real good friends during your stay,” she 
continued. "My name is Elsa Lobe. I have a 
cozy apartment on the third floor of No. 49 Fried- 
richstrasse, and surely will be real, real glad to 
see you there at any time you may care to 
call.” 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 87 

“Will you be at home this eveningP’ Burt 
asked. 

she replied. 

''Very well, then,’' Burt assured her, "I will 
call to see yon at eight o’clock this evening.” 

They thereupon went their several ways, Burt 
back to his hotel, with the self-assurance that his 
self-allotted task would be a happy one, and that 
he would win. 

Eight 0 ’clock that evening found Burt climbing 
up the dark and narrow stairway leading to Elsa’s 
apartment. He reached the third floor all out of 
breath, and stared about for a moment or so, not 
knowing at which door to knock. Finally he 
tapped lightly at the door immediately in front 
of him. Three or four attempts to gain admit¬ 
tance proved futile, as no response was had to 
his knocking. Burt was just about to leave, when 
an elderly woman appeared in the corridor and 
informed him that Elsa would return in a short 
while. A few minutes later Elsa put in her ap¬ 
pearance, and offering a host of apologies for not 
being at home in time, ushered Burt into her 
apartment. 

Burt saw at a glance as he entered that he was 
invading a den of inic[uity, and that his task was 
to beard a lioness in her own cave. Excusing her¬ 
self, Elsa retired to another room, only to return 
a little later. Burt made a careful survey of her 
as she returned, and although she appeared to be 
garbed in a gown of Nottingham curtains, he 


88 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


vowed to himself that he had never seen a maiden 
more beautiful than she. His eye slowly traveled 
toward the mantelpiece, where he espied several 
gold-tipped cigarettes. Idly approaching the man¬ 
tel he took one of them between his fingers and 
asked; 

Ho you use these f ^ * Elsa blushed all over, but 
made no reply. Guilt is more of an incentive to 
make one blush than modesty. Burt struck a 
match and lit the cigarette, then seated himself 
upon the tufted leather divan directly under the 
mantel. 

'‘Do you know,’’ began Elsa, ''that since meet¬ 
ing you I feel like an entirely different person. I 
really do not know how to express this new feeling 
that has come over me. Something in common 
seems to prevail in both of our natures, something 
that seems to link my thought with your being.” 

Perhaps you mean that there is something 
common in both our natures,” Burt ventured. 

Elsa ignored the remark, then asked: 

"What ties bind you to Berlin?” 

"Suppose you apply that question to yourself,” 
Burt answered defiantly. 

A sort of evasive look stole over the girl’s face 
followed by a brief period of profound silence’ 
alter which she said: 

I have been in Berlin for three years. My 
parents, the best ones in the world, think that I 
am employed here. To be frank with you, I am 
not employed, and could find no work even if I 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


89 


desired it. Berlin is no place for a good girl. I 
was here about two months when I met a young 
Dresdener, who confessed his love for me. I 
thought at that time that I loved him, too, and our 
marriage became a matter of discussion. In time 
I found out that I was the innocent victim of his 
faults and falsehoods. I was betrayed, deserted. 
I could not find any work, and dared not go home. 
I was helpless. Since then I have wandered along 
the streets that are nightly thronged with dis¬ 
gusted and disparaged hearts.’’ 

Approaching the divan whereon Burt sat, and 
poising at its head, she continued: 

‘^And you seem to like that throng from the 
manner in which I saw you look upon it last 
evening. ’ ’ 

hated it,” was Burt’s sharp retort. 

‘^Do you Americans have anything of that kind 
in your country?” she asked. 

‘‘Conditions of this kind are found the world 
over,” Burt replied. 

“Who and what are you at home?” further 
queried Burt’s companion. 

‘ ‘ If that will interest you, ’ ’ Burt replied, ‘ ‘ I will 
give you a brief outline of myself. I am a physi¬ 
cian by profession, and a soldier of fortune by 
self-appointment. A complex sort of a fellow on 
the whole, and the less you endeavor to find out 
about me, the more you will learn. I am not in 
Berlin on any particular mission, but chancing to 
be in Germany, one would hardly care to miss its 


90 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


capital. It is just like going to Eome, and not 
visiting the Vatican, you know. ^ ’ 

^^And what do you think of our women P’ inters 
posed Elsa. 

‘‘Your women I presume are just like all other 
women,’’ Burt replied ironically; “and as a mat¬ 
ter of fact, all women are pretty much alike, with 
the possible exception of one. Man’s kindness 
toward you is misconstrued as being affection, and 
when he does not wholly yield to your impulses he 
is then accused of trifling with your affections, is 
a big ass burdened down with a mass of words, all 
tongue and nothing else. ’ ’ 

“You have excepted one woman from this un¬ 
necessary condemnation, and I trust that you 
mean me,” Elsa said. 

“No, I did not mean you,” came Burt’s reply, 
“for it’s a safe bet that you are just like all other 
women, longing I presume, for folly and laughter, 
desiring glitter and glare, thirsting to conquer and 
win. You and all of you serve one good purpose, 
but pray let us speak of something more entertain¬ 
ing. ’ ’ 

Speedily the hours had rolled away one by one, 
until at last Burt heard a clock in an adjoining 
room strike two. He arose, and taking Elsa by the 
hand, bade her good-night. 

“You cannot leave here to-night,” she said, 
“for it is a good distance to your hotel; vehicles 
of every kind have ceased running, and you may 


91 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 

meet with a great deal of difficulty in getting back 
or be held up by highwaymen.” 

Burt smiled and then asked: 

“Well, what can we do about it?” 

“Eemain here until morning,” she replied. 
“ You may sleep on this couch, if you will, and 
aftGr breakfast you can go on your way. 

The invitation that Burt had longed for was 
accepted, and he informed Elsa that he would re¬ 
main. 


CHAPTER XI 

Bubt made up his mind that since he was 
obliged to remain in Elsa^s apartment for the 
night, that he might as well make the best of it. 
He took otf his coat, collar, and necktie, then threw 
himself at length npon the conch. Elsa disap¬ 
peared into an adjoining room, only to return a 
few minutes later, wearing an old rose kimono, 
which lent additional charm and grace to her 
sinuous form. Burt pretended that he was sleep¬ 
ing. She threw herself crosswise upon the bed, 
where she remained for nearly an hour. Burt 
could not fall asleep, try as he may, and without 
making the slightest sound, sat upright on the 
couch. Elsa, too, was awake, and saw him. 

^^Why do you not sleep, my friend T’ she asked. 

‘ ‘ I am not accustomed to sleeping on couches, and 
furthermore, I find it pretty warm in here, ’ ^ Burt 
replied. Elsa arose and walked over to Burt. 

can not fall asleep either,’^ she said, as she 
seated herself beside him and continued speaking. 
^ ^ I cannot sleep on account of thinking of you. It 
seems as though Heaven sent you to Berlin for my 
sole pleasure, and for the first time in many moons 
I am just satisfied as I am.^^ 

92 


93 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 

“Is that so?” queried Burt, “and just to think 
of it,” he said, “I was just about to cause you 
dissatisfaction by asking you to change places with 
me for a little while. Beds, you know, are mnch 
more comfortable than couches.” 

“Very well,” she replied, “we will both change 
places,” and together they crossed the room. 

The moon that stole into her room, and the eyes 
that crept into her sonl were the only things per¬ 
ceptible to Elsa. 

“Take me with you when you return to Amer¬ 
ica,” she said pleadingly. 

You would be no better off in America than you 
are here,” Burt informed her, and then added: 
‘ ‘ There is as much gayety here as there; and, after 
all, that is what yon want. All you desire is life— 
real life, brimming over with pleasure; the glare 
of the white light and the tint of the drink that 
fans your innate desire, and the youth that sways 
with the rise and fall of your body. These are the 
things that your nature craves, and Berlin is equal 
to the task in furnishing your requirements in 
abundance. ’ ’ 

“You are wrong, dead wrong,” she said rebuk- 
ingly. “I want to live right. I want someone to 
guide me and lead me through a straight path, 
and you are the one that can do it. You do not 
know, and you cannot understand what it means, 
this struggling of a woman to live a real woman’s 
life. If you were to leave me, I do not know what 
I would do; in all likelihood I would go into a con- 


94 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


vent to prove to the world and to yon that my 
desire is to be good/^ 

Bnrt took in the psychology of the entire situa¬ 
tion. He was putting her to the iron test. 

''Weak men cannot make strong women,Burt 
replied, ‘‘and furthermore, I think it would be well 
for you to understand that I am a weak man. As 
far as convents are concerned, I am not sure that 
they accomplish any more in the way of reforming 
women than prisons do in reforming criminals. 
You can do a great deal more good out in the open 
world in a sunbonnet than you can in a convent, 
all draped up in black. Heaven does not need any 
convent prisons. You canot exercise a free God- 
given will behind bars. ’ ^ 

“You are not a weak man; weak men do not 
talk like that,’’ Elsa rejoined. 

With this last remark she brushed his head with 
her hand. He felt her heart beating against his 
side, and was conscious of an old feeling that was 
seizing hold of him—a feeling that although felt 
ever so often can never be interpreted nor ex¬ 
pressed in any language. Weak as he was, he 
attempted to remain firm in the resolution he had 
made. He did not weaken under the pressure and 
failed to answer the call of that which had made 
him the Prince of Passion; but, nevertheless, he 
seized her in his arms and kissed and kissed her, 
and she in turn kissed him. He almost loved her, 
and with an assurance that he could not explain, 
he continued to embrace her. Without violating 


THE PRINCE OP PASSION 


95 


the pact made with himself, he fondled and ca¬ 
ressed her until she felt herself carried exultantly 
into the very domain of ecstasy, carried to that 
blissful point in the realm of affection which 
marks the climax of all love, of all passion. It is 
this climax that men of thought and science, and a 
great many physicians of note have labeled as 
pain. However, it seems as though the entire 
world is constantly undergoing an abundance of 
pain. With the permanent removal of this pain, 
there will be no more pleasure, but so long as 
youth is young and nature smiles, pain and pleas¬ 
ure will lock hands. 

For nearly three weeks Elsa and Burt were 
almost inseparable. They ate and drank together; 
walked and talked with each other, occupied the 
same apartment, and for all practical purposes 
were as one. Burt got used to sleeping on the 
couch. He had succeeded in his attempt, and for 
once in his life had done some good. He had really 
instilled thoughts of decency and self-respect in 
Elsa^s mind. She had forgotten her slang, had 
lost her desire for the gutters, and all her previous 
inordinate longings, and, what was more, she had 
thrown her soul into her music, for with all her 
previous faults she still was an accomplished 
pianist. In a word, she had been completely trans¬ 
formed. But with this change came a new desire, 
a new-born feeling. Elsa really and truly loved 
Burt. He, as has already been said, almost loved 
her, yet dared not. At least, he felt as though he 


96 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


did, yet dreaded the thought. Both of them had 
maintained a strict silence on their thoughts in 
this direction. 

Burt at last began to realize that his mission had 
been fulfilled, and he continued to remain in her 
company with great reluctance. He had broken 
his vow while mending a broken soul. While she 
grew stronger, he was growing weaker; and who 
could tell what the result might be? 

‘Hf I were to leave you now and pass out of 
your life forever, I do not think that you would be 
any the worse off for having met me,’’ he said to 
her one evening during an intermission of the 
operetta they had gone to hear. 

‘‘But you do not intend to leave me, Jim, do 
you ? ’ ’ she asked. 

“ It is difficult for me to say just what I will do, ’ ’ 
he replied. “I am feeling kind of queer lately, 
and have a longing to go back to what I have been 
in the past. ’ ’ 

“Jim, you taught me the right from the wrong 
way, and I am going to abide by your teaching; 
and if you intend to go back again to the slime of 
the past, you will have to go alone,” she said in a 
defiant tone of voice. 

Returning that night from the play, Burt and 
Elsa walked slowly up Friedrichstrasse to her 
apartment. On the way home she took occasion to 
impress upon him what he now meant to her, but 
all that she said made no impression upon Burt. 
He paid no attention to anything she said. 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


97 


The next morning Burt took early leave of Elsa, 
informing her that one of his relatives from Han¬ 
over was in town, and that he would remain away 
for a while, and requested her to meet him at four 
0 ^clock that afternoon in front of the Hotel Bris¬ 
tol. For some reason or other she did not keep 
her appointment. She had broken a similar ap¬ 
pointment with him the day before, when he was 
obliged to be out on some private matter. Had 
she been there, however, she, too, would have been 
disappointed, for Burt did not put in his appear¬ 
ance. Burt had met his relative and had confided 
to him the entire story concerning Elsa and him¬ 
self. 

have done everything in my power to make 
her a good woman, and now I regret it,” Burt 
said. ‘^Why in the deuce should I assume so¬ 
ciety’s burden of restoring lost women to the con¬ 
fidence of the world?” he asked. had the very 
best of intentions; but, man, her face was made for 
kissing only and her form was created by nature 
to yield to every one of passion’s impulses.” 

Burt’s relative looked at him in amazement and 
said: 

‘^You have gone stark mad, Jim Burt, and don’t 
know what you are doing. Let her alone, and go 
your own way. Get out of Berlin as quick as you 
can, and forget that you ever met her. She is only 
acting her part, and in the end her childish in¬ 
stincts will again surrender to the influences that 
the gutters leave upon those that have once tasted 


98 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


bitter fruits, and then you will hate her. Get out 
for good and go to your work. ’ ^ 

This argument was thorough and convincing, 
and Burt finally announced his intention of aban¬ 
doning Elsa, and gave up the thought of ever see¬ 
ing her again. At first he had intended to return 
to her apartment and tell her that all of his mo¬ 
tives had disappeared and that his desire was to 
reverse the order of things and send her back 
again to the streets. The fiend in him was again 
at work. But no, he argued with himself, he would 
let her remain in peace, to follow any course she 
might care to. He recalled that that very morning 
when he left her, he had promised himself never to 
return, even though he felt as though he loved her. 


CHAPTEE XII 


Say what we will and act as we please, he as 
good as we might or as bad as we choose, society 
must admit the indisputable fact that some evil 
trait is indigenous to the best of men and women, 
and some good secreted in the worst of them. 

Elsa was neither the best, nor, can it be said, 
the worst woman in the world. She surely could 
not have been the worst creature, for the reason 
that she was a woman. It is only the double code, 
which has no real excuse for existence, that paints 
woman either really good or really bad, when as 
a matter of fact she is neither. Woman knows 
no extremes. She is not what she is of her own 
free will, but is what society has willed she should 
be. True, Elsa had been one of passion ^s play- 
toys. Circumstances brought about by social con¬ 
ditions had so willed. There is some force, call 
it what you will, that sets the goal for both man 
and woman, and few mortals are, or have become 
what they are, from their own volition. 

When Burt had gone, with the promise to re¬ 
turn that evening, Elsa felt a new sensation steal 
over her. She realized that she loved Jim Burt. 
The past, in all of its darkness, rushed by, seizing 
hold of her unrelentingly. Life as she now saw 
99 


100 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


it spelled regret. She really loved Burt, not il¬ 
licitly, but as even the best of women love, giving 
credit, however, for the varied degrees of even 
the latter sort. She resolved then and there to 
make the future an atonement for the past. She 
would tell Burt that evening of the intensity of 
her love for him and of her unvarying faith in 
his teachings. Until evening came, every minute 
would be an hour and every hour a day. This is 
one of the unfortunate conditions attendant upon 
those who are in love. 

In the natural sequence of things, evening 
eventually came, but Burt did not; and when the 
town-clock pealed forth the strokes that informed 
her that ten o’clock had arrived, Elsa rightfully 
concluded that Burt had disappointed her. She 
was wondering whether he was attempting to get 
even with her for her disappointing him in the 
afternoon and also the day before, when she de¬ 
tected a faint knock upon the door. She sprang 
joyfully to the door, expecting to greet Burt, but 
in his stead stood a messenger boy. 

'‘A message for Fraulein Elsa Lobe,” uttered 
the uniformed lad. 

Elsa seized the message frantically and hastily 
read its contents. It read: 

Feeling that I do love you, and fearing from your past and 
what I have seen of you to trust you, I am leaving Berlin to¬ 
night for Hamburg. 

Sub-consciously, Elsa slammed the door in the 
messenger’s face. 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


101 


‘'Why is it,’’ she sobbed, “that our future is 
governed by our past? Is not the present the 
dividing line between what has been and what is 
to be?” 

It was eight o’clock the next morning when Elsa 
arose, after a night of despair and misery. As 
she gazed into her mirror, she at once noticed that 
the beautiful luster of her eyes had fled, and now 
they were all bloodshot. Those eyes of romance 
were worn with tears. All hope of ever seeing 
Burt again soon vanished, but Elsa had decided 
upon a course. 

Burt, after leaving his relative, came to the con¬ 
clusion that the next best thing for him to do was 
to leave Berlin. He really did love Elsa,—at 
least, he thought so,—but as far as love was con¬ 
cerned, he loved no one in particular. He loved 
the idea, perhaps, of reforming this waif, as he 
had termed her, and without giving the matter 
any further consideration he determined to leave 
Berlin that very evening. He did, but before leav¬ 
ing he dispatched the note to Elsa that brought 
about the fortunate result that we shall soon 
learn of. 

Late that night, Burt arrived in the extremely 
dirty city of Hamburg. His first intention on 
arrival was to write Elsa a nice long letter. He 
actually had seated himself in the office of his hotel 
for that purpose, and was proceeding rapidly with 
his letter when he glanced again at the heading. 
He was startled when he saw the words “My 


102 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


darling Jeannette written by his own hand, and 
half-wittingly he tore the letter to shreds, and 
retired to his room. 

It can be repeated with truthful emphasis that 
Hamburg is a very dirty city. Itinerant vendors 
crowd the streets everywhere, and shout their 
wares somewhat on the order of the fakirs of 
India and Hindustan. Milk is carted about the 
streets in carts drawn by dogs in rein, and the 
chatter of street merchants sounds something like 
the interchange of discourse between Italians 
and Jews on the curb-stone markets of New 
York. 

Burt espied a set of souvenir post-cards that 
were just to his liking, as he strolled through one 
of the busy streets a week after his arrival. One 
of the cards impressed him a great deal. His 
gaze was riveted to it for some minutes. It was 
a view of Berlin, and showed exactly the very 
spot where he had met Elsa,—Elsa, the poor down¬ 
trodden daughter of the slums. A notion seized 
hold of him fastly and firmly. 

‘Tome what may,’^ he muttered, “I am going 
to return to Berlin and Elsa this very day.’’ 

Strange as it may seem, the bird of prey inva¬ 
riably returns to its carrion. Burt, too, returned 
to Berlin, not knowing why. It is also strange 
that a great many people often do things without 
knowing just why they do them. Alighting from 
his train at the Friedrichstrasse Bahnhof, he 
dashed to the street, and mounted the first auto- 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 103 

mobile omnibus bound in the direction of Elsa’s 
flat. 

Just to deviate for a moment, let it be under¬ 
stood that Berlin had its jitneys quite some while 
before Fifth Avenue dreamt of such a thing. 

Burt soon arrived at Elsa’s dwelling. Up the 
stairs he went, taking two steps at a time, a thing 
that most of us do when in haste. After knocking 
at her door several times, and getting no response, 
he was in the act of leaving, when the kind dentist 
who had his office on the same floor and just across 
the corridor informed him that no one resided 
there. 

^‘Whom do you seek?” he queried. 

‘‘Fraulein Elsa Lobe,” Burt replied. 

Something strange has happened to the young 
lady, which caused her to leave four or five days 
ago, ’ ’ continued the jovial-looking dentist. ‘ ‘ Since 
she is gone for good,” he said, guess it won’t 
hurt to tell you all. The night before she left she 
came to my office and told me she was going away 
forever; going away to a convent for the balance 
of her life. She told me that she had met an 
American with whom she had fallen in love, that 
she sincerely loved him, but that he had spurned 
her love. The next day she left and nothing has 
been seen of her since.” 

‘‘Is that so?” Burt muttered half-consciously. 

‘‘Yes, it is so,” came the response, “and per¬ 
haps it is a good thing for you that she did 
leave. ’ ’ 


104 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


Burt cast a defiant glance at his informer and 
asked him for an explanation. 

am quite sure that you are that American 
gentleman to whom she referred, because I saw 
you enter her apartment on one occasion. You 
do not know that young lady as well as I do. She 
occupied those quarters opposite to me for about 
two years and during that time I have seen and 
heard enough. Elsa was anything but a good girl, 
and the spending of the balance of her life in a 
convent is not going to do her any harm. She 
would have eventually treated you exactly as she 
did the rest of the many admirers she has had, 
and you ought to be glad that you got rid of her. ’ ^ 
would have feared no evil,’’ Burt answered 
in a half-angered tone of voice. After all she 
was a woman,” he continued; ‘^and there was a 
Limit to her badness. I am always in sympathy 
with slaves of passion, and could not condemn 
them even though I meant to.” 

After a few petty remarks, Burt bade the Herr 
Zahnarzt good-by. Once on the outside, he re¬ 
solved to see Elsa once more, even though in a 
convent. 

At one time, while sitting in the Cafe Keck, he 
surely thought he saw the object of his quest; but 
no, it was another Elsa, or to be more accurate, 
another like Elsa, and he went to his hotel de¬ 
spairingly, disappointed and disgusted. 

Four o’clock that afternoon found Burt at the 
convent, which was located on the outskirts of the 
city. After attempting for a quarter of an hour 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


105 


to converse with a feeble-looking old man, who 
spoke consistently in a dialect, Burt with an in¬ 
gratiating smirk on his face, hade him good-day 
and entered the qnaint-looking edifice. Looking 
about, he noticed a little wicket on which he gently 
tapped. In a moment it slid upwards, and a veiled 
face appeared at the opening. 

‘‘What do you wantP’ asked a soft voice. 

“Is this the Sacred Heart Convent?’^ queried 
Burt. 

“ It is, ’ ^ came the quick response. 

Falteringly Burt inquired whether or not it was 
possible for him to deliver in person a very im¬ 
portant message to Sister Elsa, who had just 
entered the institution; and being assured that he 
could speak to her through the wicket, awaited her 
coming. The minutes he stood there in waiting 
seemed an eternity. Eternities have existed in 
the space of a few moments. At length a veiled 
face appeared again, and addressed him. Burt 
knew that voice, it had not changed, although 
everything else had. 

“ It is strange how the lion returns to the lamb, ^ ^ 
remarked Elsa, as she saw Burt before her. 

“Lower your veil so that I may see the expres¬ 
sion that accompanies that utterance,’^ said Burt 
imperatively. 

“I no longer take orders from those out of 
orders, quickly came the retort. 

“It was just to look upon your fair countenance 
once more and to bid you a lasting farewell that 
I came here,'' said Burt invoHngly. 


106 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


have but a moment in which to speak to 
you/’ she continued, ^^and will use it in telling 
you my last word to worldly man. I loved you 
to such an extent that I had inwardly bade fare¬ 
well to the gutters. I could not dare to expect 
from you a return of this love, and determined 
forthwith to sacrifice my future life to some 
worthy cause. I have done so, thank God! I still 
love you and shall always love you, recompensing 
myself in the future with the thought that perhaps 
I was not worthy of you. I have pledged myself 
to God’s work forever, and shall daily pray for 
you and nightly dream of you, and in my prayers 
and dreams I shall be happy. Good-by, and may 
Heaven espouse you to one more worthy.” 

The wicket then fell, separating Elsa from 
Burt as effectively as he had been separated from 
the past. 

The solemn chant of the veiled sisters seemed 
to arouse him. 

''Prayers and dreams,” he muttered, as he 
sauntered forth from the convent, one of the 
places he had always considered as never intended 
by the Divinity for the incarceration of women. 

An hour later found Burt on his way to Han¬ 
over with a full quota of good resolutions. At 
any event, he did not love Elsa, but merely wished 
to test the effect that her present surroundings 
might have upon her. 

Convents do bring about strange results,—at 
least, Burt and Boccaccio thought as much. 


CHAPTER XIII 

If you have never been in the city of Hanover, 
you really do not know what you have missed. 
It is girded on all sides by beautiful environs, and 
even the people themselves speak different than 
elsewhere in Germany. In the heart of the city 
lies the Corso Cafe, the proprietor of which is a 
little man with a big bald pate, who is mated to 
one of the sweetest women one ever met. How¬ 
ever, we are not concerned with either the pro¬ 
prietor or his wife, but rather with Lucy, their 
daughter. Lucy is a fair-faced maiden of many 
prepossessing qualities, and is over-fond of a very 
venerable grandmother. 

Opposite the Corso Cafe is the Hotel Kaiser- 
worth, conducted by a jovial, good-natured crea¬ 
ture in the person of one Hans Storck, who has 
known Jim Burt for many years, as Burt had been 
in Hanover several years before. Storck and 
Burt have some characteristics in common, two 
especially: women and wine. 

On the particular afternoon in which we are 
now interested, Storck and Burt were engaged in 
a pleasant conversation, and while conversing, 
Burt chanced to glance from a window near which 
107 


108 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


he sat, to the street below. His attention was 
riveted on a young girl below. 

‘^She looks good to me,’^ said Bnrt to Storck, 
whereupon the latter looked out to see the object 
of Burt’s remark. 

‘‘Perhaps you would like to have an introduc¬ 
tion to the young lady,” Storck exclaimed, “if so, 
speak up and it’s yours for the asking.” 

“No,” replied Burt, “not just now, but who in 
the deuce is she?” 

“Why, that is Lucy Pepper, the daughter of the 
proprietor of the Corso Cafe across the street.” 

And there the conversation with reference to 
the girl came to an end. 

That evening found Burt a visitor at the Corso 
Cafe. On entering the cafe, he seated himself at 
a table near the entrance, and ordered a glass of 
Miinchener beer (something which, by the way, is 
no longer extant in the United States, nor to be seen 
in the Smithsonian Institution). The orchestra, 
an aggregation of some twelve or fifteen men, 
was in charge of a young violinist named Bruno 
Georgy, who had an abundance of chestnut-brown 
hair and a really girlish complexion, and looked 
in every particular exactly like a lion tamer. He 
had the appearance of a genuine genius, which he 
was. Burt for some reason or other took a liking 
to him, and it was not very long before they be¬ 
came rather chummy. While waiting to get a 
glimpse of the proprietor’s daughter, Jim rest¬ 
lessly sat and listened to one of Liszt’s “Hunga- 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


109 


rian Rhapsodies/^ Suddenly his attention was 
directed to two Americans who had just entered. 
Burt recognized one of them as a friend he had 
met before. It was not long thereafter that Burt 
and Lane Blackburn, together with the other 
American seated themselves at what later was 
named the American Table. 

‘‘Well, Lane old chap, when did you hit this 
burg?^^ Burt asked. 

“This afternoon,came the reply. 

“And when do you intend to leaveBurt in¬ 
terrogated further. 

“To tell the truth,’’ answered Blackburn, “I’ll 
stay here with you as long as you care to remain, 
if you do not mind, for I sort of like this town.” 

It was then and there agreed upon that the 
friends spent their stay together in Hanover. 
While chatting among themselves, the proprietor 
approached and took a seat at their table. This 
is not an unusual custom in Europe. A round of 
drinks followed, pursued many times by many 
other rounds, and by ten o’clock the American 
Table became quite popular. 

There is always conviviality in a German cafe, 
accompanied by sobriety and order, and it is noth¬ 
ing unusual to find an entire family spending an 
evening there, drinking moderately and enjoying 
classical music. It is, perhaps, for the aforegoing 
reasons that it has not become necessary for the 
German Government to pass any laws prohibiting 
the sale of intoxicating drinks. Bruno Georgy, 


110 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


the leader of the orchestra, soon joined the ranks 
at the American Table. 

The round of pleasure was complete to all,— 
yes, to all except Burt. There was something 
missing, something that he felt that he had to see, 
and see her he must. He was just scheming how 
he could bring this about when the object of his 
desire approached, and lovingly placing her arms 
around her father ^s neck, stood behind him. The 
proprietor arose, and with the dignity of a man 
of much higher degree, took his daughter by the 
hand and with a curt bow, introduced her to those 
at the table. Burt arose, and taking the young 
girl by the hand, assured her that he was delighted 
to meet her. To the rest the introduction was 
nothing more or less than a formal matter. Burt 
and the girl became seated, the latter ordering a 
glass of chocolate. The conversation drifted from 
one thing to another, and from one drink to an¬ 
other, until twelve o^clock, when the little social 
disbanded. Burt and Blackburn agreed to meet 
the next morning in front of the Cafe Kropke, and 
each of them took his course homeward. 

Burt returned to his hotel, and hastened to his 
room, where, after writing a few letters to friends 
and acquaintances in America, he retired. Al¬ 
though sleepy as could be, he could not fall asleep, 
but kept on thinking of Lucy. 

In her room above the Corso, Lucy, not know¬ 
ing why, was reciprocating by thinking of Burt, 
and amid the stars that stole into her room 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


111 


through the window opposite to her bed she 
seemed to see the eyes of Jim Burt. 

Although sleep did not come to Burt, morning 
did, and after partaking of a very light breakfast, 
if breakfast you could call it, he sauntered otf to 
the Kropke. Blackburn was there waiting for 
him and together they strolled into the garden to 
the rear of the cafe. Once there, after discussing 
various matters, Burt placed hip right hand on 
his friend’s shoulder and asked: 

‘‘What do you think of the proprietor’s daugh¬ 
ter? Don’t you think she is the most exquisite bit 
of femininity that you ever ran across?” 

“I think that she is a pippin, and quite agree 
with you,—exquisite is the word. I want to learn 
more about her before I leave here,” Burt con¬ 
tinued, “since she has got me deucedly inter¬ 
ested.” 

“I fancy that you have fallen in love with her 
at first sight,” Blackburn said; “but don’t be 
rash. You cannot afford to fall in love with a 
German girl when America is full of the girliest 
girls a fellow could ever wish for, and then, again, 
I guess you know that I am not very sweet on any¬ 
thing German, and won’t be until the country 
adopts some American ideas and ideals. ’ ’ 

“Bosh on all of that!” Burt replied sarcastic¬ 
ally, “I am not concerned with German things, 
American ideas, or American ideals. I am deal¬ 
ing with this particular girl. There is something 
about that girl that is charmingly wondrous and 


112 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


I wonT have any rest until I tell her so; and if 
I am not able to tell her so before midnight, you 
can put me down as the biggest boob you ever met. 
By the way, I want you to know that I have a 
mighty fond feeling for our violinist friend, and 
I promised him to go to the American Studio 
to-morrow and have our picture taken together. 
I want you to come along with us and make it a 
triple affair. ’ ^ 

At eight o’clock that evening Burt and Black¬ 
burn again took their seats at the American Table. 
The proprietor and Georgy greeted them, while 
the latter, in a spirit of appreciation and friend¬ 
ship, caused his orchestra to play the ‘^Star- 
Spangled Banner” and several other American 
airs, all of which the large assembly of Germans 
present seemed to enjoy immensely. Even the 
waiter exhibited the most friendly conduct toward 
the Americans as they greeted him with Oher, 
The German for waiter is really Kellner, but if 
you want to get into disrepute with a German 
waiter and have him brush by you with contempt, 
all you have to do is to call him Kellner, whereas, 
if you wish him to greet you cheerfully and render 
one-hundred per cent service, just call him Oher, 
which term seems to lend something of dignity 
to his calling. 

Now, while there were any number of ohers 
plying their calling at the Corso, yet one particu¬ 
lar one had charge of the section of the cafe 
wherein the American Table happened to be. He 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


113 


was a queer sort of fellow, good-natured in a way^ 
but to more fully describe him would lead one to 
believe that Bud Fisher had chosen him for some 
of his cartoons. On this particular evening, how¬ 
ever, Herr Oher acted in a very suspicious man¬ 
ner, but since all waiters have faults of one kind 
or another, no especial attention was devoted to 
him. Later on, when Blackburn turned aside for 
a few moments, Herr Oher let the reason for his 
suspicious action become known to Burt, when 
he approached the place where Burt sat and hur¬ 
riedly placed a note in his hands, nervously look¬ 
ing about to ascertain whether anyone were 
looking. Burt, eager to learn the contents of the 
note, as well as who the sender was, forthwith 
withdrew from his pocket several letters and 
under the guise of reading one of them, quickly 
perused the contents of the note that had been 
handed to him: 

Meet me in the vestibule in the rear of the lobby downstairs. 

That was all that Burt read. As a matter of fact, 
that was enough. It was signed by Lucy, and this 
quite sufficed his purpose. Lucy sat with another 
maiden in a little compartment from which the 
drinks are served to the waiters. As Burt looked 
up from his note, and glanced over to where she 
sat, he nodded his head affirmatively, and arose. 
Excusing himself to Blackburn with the assurance 
that he would return in a short while, he de¬ 
scended the spiral staircase rather reluctantly. 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


114 

At the rear of the lobby, beside a large artificial 
fern, stood Lucy. Burt approached, and bade her 
good-evening. She smiled, and placing the index 
finger of her right hand to her lips, cautioned him 
to speak in a whisper. 

^‘Please do not let anyone know that I sent you 
that note,'' she remarked, ‘‘but I just could not 
help it. I felt that I had to do it. I was so anx¬ 
ious to get you alone and find out more about 
you." 

Burt was a trifle amazed, but took in the situa¬ 
tion in a good-humored fashion. 

“Will you," she asked, “remain in Hanover 
very long?" 

‘ ‘ I am not in any big hurry to leave,'' he replied, 
“since I have several relatives here and a host of 
good friends, and but for a week's journey 
through the Hartz Mountains, I shall spend most 
of my time in Hanover. I am informed that 
there is a very pretty operetta at the Mellini 
Theatre, and I have made up my mind to hear it 
to-morrow evening. Perhaps you would care to 
accompany me?" Burt quizzingly remarked. 

“If Mother will permit, I shall be only too glad 
to go, but I have my doubts about her consent¬ 
ing," she continued. “You see, a great many 
Americans visit our cafe from year to year, and 
lots of opportunities to go here and there are af¬ 
forded me, but I have never accepted any. 
Mamma has a sort of distrust when it comes to 
the young men of your country, fearing that they 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


115 


are here for only a short while and that their at¬ 
tentions toward young girls are calculated to de¬ 
ceive. ’ ’ 

‘‘While I feel that I may fall within this same 
category/’ Burt replied, “I am going to take the 
chance of asking your mother’s consent.” 

After a few other remarks, Burt hade Lucy 
good-night and returned to the cafe. Blackburn, 
Georgy and the proprietor were engaged in a 
joke-telling contest as he re-seated himself at the 
table. By eleven o’clock that very evening Burt 
had received the consent of Lucy’s mother to take 
her to the operetta the following evening, and to 
cap it all. Daddy had thrown in his sanction. 

That night, after Burt had retired to his room, 
he endeavored to form another good resolution. 
He had formed so many of them during his life, 
and had kept so few of them, but this one he in¬ 
tended to live up to. He was deeply impressed 
with Lucy. She was a good girl in every sense of 
the word, and he knew it. To discern goodness is 
not a difficult matter, while to hide evil is almost 
next to doing the impossible. He could not deceive 
her. Something of a brotherly feeling for a 
younger sister seemed to come over him, and he 
resolved that he would tell her so, and nothing 
more. Even a worm will turn sometime—^why not 
he? All of this passed through his mind as a 
prelude to his night’s sleep. 

During the performance the next evening Burt 
took occasion to tell Lucy a bit of his past, and 


116 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


also told lier of his thoughts regarding her. Night 
after night found him at the Corso. After two 
weeks had elapsed, one rainy afternoon, while 
reading in the parlor of his hotel, a youngster en¬ 
tered and handed him a note. It was from Lucy, 
who wrote: 

Come over at once; I have something of importance to tell 
you. 

Arriving at the Corso, he entered the cafe, which 
at this hour of the day was somewhat deserted. 
Lucy met him almost as he entered, and when they 
had seated themselves at one of the tiny tables, 
she commenced speaking: 

cannot hold back any longer,^’ she said, 
‘Hhat which I wish to tell you. For two weeks I 
have seen you nightly. Of all the Americans I 
have seen, you seem so different from the rest. 
There is a something, I do not know what, that 
seizes hold of me when you are present, and causes 
a longing for you when you are not here. You 
have from time to time told me of your past, of 
your escapades and romances, of the fiendish 
thoughts that so take possession of you, but, Jim 
Burt, even though you may hate me for saying it, 
I love you—^yes, more than love you: I worship 
you. You do not know what you have meant to 
me; you who crept into my life just at a moment 
when I felt I needed a friend. Do not blush, Jim, 
please don’t; I can’t help telling you how I feel. 
Despite the fact that you have been and are all 
that you say, I love you, love you, love yoii. Be 
you what you may, there is an unexplainable force 


THE PRINCE OP PASSION 


117 


within you that enraptures my entire being, draws 
me closer to you at every glance, and absorbs me 
soul and body; that force gives to my sun of day 
more warmth and lends more luster to my stars at 
night, disturbs my thoughts and steals into my 
dreams, making me a willing subject to all you say, 
all you dare do, and all you may ever dare or hope 
to do. Each interval of silence on your part is 
but the recess wherein your insatiable forces 
gather strength and renewed power. You destroy 
and re-create me in the same moment. I cannot 
stand it any longer, Jim, and if you can not re¬ 
spond to my love for you, for God^s sake go away 
and never visit the Corso again. ’ ’ 

Burt quickly sized up the situation. His eyes 
were riveted to the floor, and fearing to look up 
for the moment, in order that his looks would not 
deceive her, he remained silent. After a short 
pause he said: 

‘‘Lucy, you are a good woman, and thus far— 
although I have the greatest respect and admira¬ 
tion for good and loyal women—somehow good 
women have never held any special attraction for 
me. I cannot say yes to what you have said until 
I have thought the matter over more thoroughly, 
nor would I say no without giving it the greatest 
consideration. I have cherished our companion¬ 
ship for the short while I have known you, but 
really, I had no motive other than friendship, in 
calling here. Let us hold this matter in abeyance 
for a while. I am about to go on my trip to the 
Hartz Mountains, where I shaU remain for a week 


118 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


or so, during which time we shall both have ample 
time and opportunity to weigh the subject more 
carefully, but for the present, really, Lucy, you 
are too serious, too intense. ^ ’ 

The look that Burt received as he glanced up at 
her was enough to consume him. There she sat, a 
veritable picture of pathos, her eyes drowned in 
tears. She saw that there was no further use to 
argue. She realized that she was dealing with an 
inflexible will. 

‘^Very well,’’ she said, ‘^but deal fairly with 
me, Jim, for if you don’t, you will never know 
what you have cast aside.” And with this ad¬ 
monition, Lucy bent over and kissed him on the 
forehead and gently placed one of her arms about 
his neck. 

Don’t! don’t!” he roared, as he tore himself 
from her embrace, ‘Hor your own sake, don’t!” 
Then he stood erect, and looking down at her, 
asked: “Are you as good as I would believe you 
are!” 

She shot a defiant look at him and said: 

“lam anything you want me to be. ’ ’ He seized 
his hat, and bade her adieu until evening, leaving 
her weeping as though her soul were torn. 

Eeturning to the hotel in a dejected state, he 
resolved then and there to leave Hanover that 
very day for the mountains. That night Jim Burt 
was missing at the American Table; but his 
American friends were not the only ones that 
missed him. 


CHAPTEE XIV 


At the base of the wildly romantic Hartz Monn- 
tains lies the old city of Goslar, surrounded by its 
ancient fortifications. To the east of Goslar is 
Bad Harzburg, a fashionable and much frequented 
summer resort, with its magnificent surround¬ 
ings. 

Jim Burt arrived here just at the hour when his 
friends at the Corso Cafe were wondering where 
he could be. Being somewhat tired out by travel, 
he retired at an early hour. Next morning he 
arose at daybreak, and peering from his bedroom 
window, beheld the high cliffs of the beautiful 
Oker Valley. After breakfast he took a stroll to 
Burgberg, where the scanty ruins of ancient 
castles lie, overlooking all of which is the mighty 
Colunrn to Bismarck. 

For three days Burt lounged about Bad Harz¬ 
burg. The wonderfully beautiful environs of the 
place lent a special charm to his sojourn there, 
and what was more a new acquaintance, a young 
Bavarian girl, quite convinced him that his stay 
there would be quite conducive to his health, to say 
nothing of the effect that it might have upon her 
pleasure—to all of which he agreed. 

With some little reluctance Burt managed to 
119 


120 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


suggest to his newly-made acquaintance and her 
little girl friend,—a blushing maid of perhaps 
eighteen summers or so,—that a journey to the 
Brocken had always been one of his dreams, and 
it was not very long before they all agreed to 
enter upon such a journey. 

They managed to get quarters that night at 
Wernigerode, a delightful spot surrounded by 
wooded mountains. The following morning they 
traveled on foot through a wild chain of moun¬ 
tains to Schierke, a spot rich in variety of scenery. 
As the three of them sat in the cafe of their hotel, 
Burt in a strategic manner proceeded to quiz the 
young woman, in an etfort to learn something 
about her. 

“Just to think of it,^^ he remarked, “we have 
been together and known each other for several 
days, and you have not even told me your name.” 

She smiled and said: 

“Why, come to think of it, that is true. Quite 
strange how one abandons all formality while 
traveling, and what is worse than all of that, you 
have not told me yours. ^ ^ 

At this point of the conversation their younger 
companion begged to be excused, complaining of 
having a slight headache. Burt suggested that 
a headache was such a trivial thing that he could 
cure it within the wink of an eye, and with a slight 
massaging of the girPs forehead and temples he 
soon had her admitting that she felt a great deal 
better. 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


121 


^^How wonderful you are!’^ she exclaimed. 
^^You should have been a physician.’^ 

Then, asserting that she was very sleepy she 
bade Burt and her friend a pleasant good-night, 
and retired. 

*^Do you think it rather strange that we, as 
absolute strangers, should be traveling to¬ 
gether asked Burt’s companion, as they sat 
there alone. 

''Well, if you want to put it that way,” Burt 
replied, '' I guess it is a little strange; but to me 
it does not seem so. As a matter of fact, it seems 
as though I have known you all my life,—seems 
as thou^ I am traveling about with a grown-up 
sister, but suppose we discuss that no further.” 

She smiled and appeared to be amused by his re¬ 
marks. Burt intimated that perhaps it were wise 
that they, too, retire for the night, in order that 
they proceed early next morning for the Brocken, 
—a rather long trip. And then, again, they had 
her friend to consider. Neither one of the excuses 
advanced by Burt seemed very plausible ones for 
retiring, as far as Burt’s companion was con¬ 
cerned, and she so informed him, despite the fact 
that she agreed to retire for the night. As he 
escorted her up the stair, he informed her that his 
name was Dr. James Burt. 

"Then, you are a physician,” she said. 

"Yes,” he replied, and in the same breath asked 
her her name. 

"I do not suppose that that makes a great deal 


122 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


of difference to you/^ she answered in a sort of 
roguish manner, ^‘but if you must know, it is 
Marguerite. ’ ’ 

With her name still ringing in his ear, Burt 
again descended the stairs to the cafe below, where 
he partook of a bottle of Rudesheimer Rothwein. 
Young women and old wine were his two favorites, 
but of the two the former had the greater charm. 

At sunrise the next morning Burt and his com¬ 
panions were on their way up the mountain, and 
with but short pauses, in which they rested or 
viewed some ancient ruins, they continued onward 
until they eventually reached the Brocken. 

The Brocken, situated at an elevation of over 
thirty-seven hundred feet above the level of the 
sea, although void of vegetation and exhibiting 
sterility to an extreme, is girded around by forest- 
covered mountain-slopes, while across a majestic 
sweep of many miles the eye steals over purple 
hills, kissed by the dew of dawn, more royal in 
their hue than the robes of living monarchs, and 
from their bewilderingly beautiful peaks mighty 
trees project upward like a mystical colonnade 
adorned with foliage. 

Burt and his companions reached the summit 
of the Brocken at an hour when the lingering 
twilight lit up the mountains with the reflected 
glories of the sunset sky, and the fading crimson 
that penetrated the mist miraged sister-slopes as 
huge silhouettes. Burt looked upon the beauty of 
his surroundings until the scene was enveloped in 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


123 


the darkness of evening. He then dashed into the 
dining-room of the only hotel on the Brocken, and 
appeased an appetite horn of a long day’s journey 
over the mountains. After satisfying his hunger, 
he idly wandered to the porch of the hotel, and 
half-wonderingly gazed upon the skies above. In 
the distance he discerned the rumbling of thunder, 
then, of a sudden, it started to rain. Burt seemed 
to love it all as a kind of external expression of 
Kis inner-self. 

Reason as we may, everything in this world, no 
matter how ugly it may seem, has its correspond¬ 
ing beauty, while, on the other hand, there is noth¬ 
ing so good hut that it has something of had in it. 
The lightning flashed in f orky zig-zags, stealing the 
veil of darkness from the face of impending night, 
and fringing the foliage of the neighboring moun¬ 
tains with a lurid silver until the entire range 
appeared a mass of white; and as the torrents fell 
between the crags of the mighty rocks imbedded 
in the ravines below, licking each ridge of granite 
with a foamy tongue, it seemed as though the 
Mountain-God, in all his fury and wrath, hurled 
forth bolts of thunder to cleave a wider channel 
betwixt ridge and ridge. To Burt it was vast, 
wonderful, beautiful. 

Marguerite ventured to his side, exclaiming how 
terrible the storm was and how fortunate they 
had been to escape it. 

‘ ‘ Terrible T ’ he shouted. ^ Ht is immense! Na¬ 
ture, like man, has a way of expressing itself and 


124 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


manifests its wonders in so many different ways. 
The heavens weep; morning smiles and night 
frowns. The storm that is now subsiding is na¬ 
ture's passion, spent in beauteous fury. Nature 
is just like man; it craves for something that it 
in itself does not possess.^’ 

She looked at him in amazement. 

‘‘And what is this thing that both man and 
nature crave she asked. 

“Soul!’’ he exclaimed in a subdued tone. 
“Soul, the longing for a soul! Soul is what puri¬ 
fies and ennobles man and enriches nature. Both 
are always in quest of it for neither have it within. 
The sun draws its soul from the fountains of the 
deep; the flower finds its soul in the dew of morn; 
youth finds its soul in the object of its love, while 
love itself is the soul of a summer’s day. I, I, 
Marguerite, lack a soul.” 

She looked at him for a moment, and then drew 
closer to him. His hand stole unconsciously about 
her neck, while she yielded submissively to his 
tender embrace. 

“I had a soul once,” he continued, “but it was 
stolen from me in youth, and now, seek whereso¬ 
ever I will, in vale or dale, I cannot find another. ’ ’ 

“What prompts all of this self-martydom?” she 
asked. 

He held her firmly, and replied: 

“The storm in all of its splendor has awakened 
in me lingering memories of the past. As the 
mighty torrents ravished the huge boulders below, 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


125 


and the lightning embraced with fiery glow and 
passion the adjacent peaks, pregnant with vernal 
beanty, I seemed to see my lost soul ride upon the 
gale, and then, then, as the mighty thunder burst, 
a vow of old rekindled in me the desire to avenge 
the theft of that soul of which I was bereft. ^ ’ 

As though entranced, she laid her hand upon 
his bosom. For a moment a profound silence 
reigned, after which she suddenly threw both of 
her arms around his neck, exclaiming: 

‘'Jim, you are all soul! Your eyes are souls 1^^ 
She smothered him with kisses, while he stroked 
the massy wave of hair upon her head with one 
hand, as with the other he held her in a tight em¬ 
brace. Suddenly, as though frightened, he rudely 
thrust her from him and shrieked: 

“Guard against such souls, for they are orbs 
of fire, and destruction lies in their wake 1^^ Then 
in a milder tone he went on: “Marguerite, the 
world has called me a prince of passion. The 
world is an abominable lie forever uttering lies. 
I am not a prince, I am a slave,—a slave who begs 
you to leave me to my thralldom. Go to your 
room and pray; pray to the God that you worship 
to subdue the tempest that sways me. I can no 
longer pray: to me prayer has become a jest, 
an empty, meaningless thing. 

A look of amazement stood upon her beautiful 
face as she asked: “Cannot prayer and love solace 
youI^ ’ 

“Go! go!^^ he shouted gruffly. “Prayers are 


126 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


answered when nttered by the innocent, and love 
is found only in the true, the beautiful and the 
good. Where can you find a combination of truth, 
beauty, and goodness! 

Whereupon he bade her good-night, and told 
her not to worry nor think about him, then stole 
away to his room. 

Only those who have loved and been loved know 
that blissful feeling that comes with the blending 
of two human souls. Woman alone understands 
the intensity of this feeling, for when she loves, 
all of her heart, her soul, her might, even her very 
life is absorbed in her love, and Marguerite, who 
was a good and noble woman, loved Jim Burt. 
She loved his soul, despite the fact that she knew 
and understood his weakness. All of her appeals 
to him had availed her nothing. 

It is the custom at the Brocken House to ring 
a huge bell on clear mornings, so that guests may 
arise early and behold the rising sun. It was this 
same bell that awakened Burt the next morning. 
He arose, and in a joyous mood approached the 
solemn tower that arises from the mountain top, 
and overlooks with strange austerity all things 
beneath it. To him the morning was grand, great, 
glorious. The huge mossy rocks seemed to ascend 
upward until they met the heavens, all gleaming 
like a dome of hammered gold, while brilliant 
amber rays played profusely over clumps of purple 
and azure, and the abyss below ran riotous with 
color. The broken melodies of joyous birds sing- 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


127 


ing to their feathered mates greeted his ear, while 
refreshing breezes, borne on the gentle wings of 
morning, tenderly played upon his cheeks. En¬ 
chanted by all that he saw and heard, he stood 
as in a dream. He was suddenly aroused by a 
delicate touch upon his shoulder, and turning 
about, he beheld Marguerite. 

‘‘Does not such a morning elevate your soulT^ 
he asked, as he waved his hand around in a semi¬ 
circle. 

“ It is wondrous!—grand! ^ ’ she exclaimed, ‘ ‘ and 
is made all the grander by the way you express 
yourself. Each sentence that you utter is a har¬ 
mony, the harmony that penetrates me, and makes 
me call you the song of my soul.^^ 

“Marguerite!^^ Burt suddenly exclaimed, “this 
mountain recalls to me a legend of old, and, 
strange as it may seem, our chance acquaintance 
borders on similarities. Goethe and Heine have 
sung their expressions of this very peak. Your 
name corresponds with the maiden ^s in that legend 
of old, and once again, in real life. Marguerite 
returns to the Brocken, and comes into contact 
with a real Dr. Faustus. By a vow made years 
ago, I, too, have a compact with Mephistopheles. 
What you behold in me is but a mild and generous 
melancholy reflecting a life of sorrow, a memory 
of disappointed youthhood. I have survived the 
sorrow, and now live only to perpetuate that vow 
and dwell in the intoxicated realm of passion. 
Passion to me has become a blessing, and I would 


128 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


rather be the prince consort of the basest woman 
than slave to the most virtuous wife. Eeal crim¬ 
son blood flows through all of my arteries, nur¬ 
turing a passion that becomes devouring. I am 
enamored of each fair face that I see, and think 
for the time that I am in love; but a time will come 
when there will be surcease, when all of these 
storms will abate, and the frosts of winter will 
creep into this form of clay, sending the ashen 
pallor of death to my face. Then will my old 
wounds open, and all the dreams of bygone yester¬ 
days awaken in me the pleasures of youth; then 
a myriad of youthful forms will dance before me, 
and Dr. Faustus will again be restored to youth. 
My soul will again chant the youthful song of 
love, and the fetters that now bind me shall be 
broken; but now, alas!—for the present,—I shall 
remain a flower that loves the sun. By the grace 
of your purity, which makes you fairer than the 
lily, you have escaped calamity, but I conjure you 
to beware of that insect that sucks the honey 
from the blazing heart of the rose. Leave me to 
my own thoughts, and tell that soul of yours that 
it is a flower I cherished, but would not crush. 
Leave me to my delicious sorrow!’^ 

Marguerite understood it all. He was telling 
truths, and she knew them as such; so, with 
his last utterance still ringing in her ear, she re¬ 
turned to the hotel. Burt followed a little later, 
and dashed madly to his room. 

An hour later, without even bidding his com- 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


129 


panions good-bye, he was again on his way over 
narrow mountain paths, whistling like the care¬ 
free bird as it, with merry melody, arouses the 
sleepy morn. 

‘‘Well, iFs no use worrying about that fellow, 
Marguerite ^s companion commented as they sat 
together that afternoon. 

“Say what you will about him,^^ Marguerite 
began, “he is simply wondrous, and,—just to 
think of it,—we may never see him again. He 
gave a new color to my life. There was an un¬ 
speakable pleasure in his touch, and all the beau¬ 
ties and charm of this lofty summit were reflected 
in his eyes. His words sent a new warmth to my 
heart, and although I shall never see him more, 
I shall be a better and nobler woman for having 
met him.^^ 

Down at the bottom of her heart Marguerite 
felt a real vacuity. She had learned to love Jim 
Burt, and would have surrendered up herself to 
him, heart and soul, had he but so commanded. 

“Burt! Burt!^^ she cried aloud into the mystic 
silence of the mountain night. 

But Burt did not hear. He was among those 
things that come no more. 


CHAPTER XV 


The next day found Burt seated all alone in 
one of the compartments of a second-class fast 
train bound for Hanover. ^^Fast/’ is somewhat 
exaggerated when used in connection with a Ger¬ 
man train, as speed is one thing that does not 
exist in the Fatherland. This particular train, 
however, was slightly faster than the others. 
BurFs head was idly resting on the gray uphol¬ 
stery at the back of his seat as he glanced out of 
the window at the beautiful heide that was grow¬ 
ing in abundance along the route. A sudden im¬ 
pact brought him to his feet. Something had hap¬ 
pened. 

Burt dashed for the door, and finding it locked, 
Jumped from the window of his coach. He at 
once discerned that a collision had occurred. Pas¬ 
sengers were being carried from the rear coach 
and placed upon the ground, some of them bleed¬ 
ing from cuts made by flying glass, others were 
unconscious, while a dozen or more, men and 
women, were limping about in agony, and utter¬ 
ing groans. The crews of the two trains in colli¬ 
sion were in consultation. 

‘^We are twelve miles from Hildesheim, ’ ^ the 
aged conductor of BurFs train nervously said; 

130 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


131 


‘^and it will take almost an hour for medical help 
to reach ns.^^ 

Biirt pnlled off his coat in haste, and started 
right in to do some real work. 

‘'Get all of the table linens and towels to¬ 
gether, he commanded, “and Vll try to relieve 
as much of this suffering as possible, until help 
arrives. ^ ^ 

He hastily examined all of the injured persons, 
with the exception of one young woman who had 
been carried bodily from one of the coaches and 
placed on the ground. 

“She is the only one that died in this wreck, 
said the old conductor, addressing Burt. “Seven¬ 
teen injured and one dead, ’ ^ he continued, as with 
a mournful look upon his face, he proceeded to 
make up his accident report. “And to think of 
it^—^my first accident in thirty years. But iFs 
not my fault and it can^t be helped. 

A little while later medical aid arrived, as did 
the wrecking crew. One of the trains was soon 
got in running condition, and all the injured pas¬ 
sengers were placed aboard for Hildesheim. 

“This one must have died of sudden fright,’' 
remarked one of the physicians, as he and Burt 
lifted her body into the baggage car. 

Burt expressed the wish of remaining with the 
body until it reached its destination. Once alone, 
he for the first time looked upon the face of the 
girl, and then quickly sank backward. It hap¬ 
pened to be a face he knew. It was Mathilde, the 


132 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


pretty maid that had been employed at his hotel in 
Hanover. He approached and placed his hand 
on her forehead. It was warm. Burt was quite 
convinced that dead women do not have warm 
foreheads. 

He quickly tore her shirtwaist and undergar¬ 
ments asunder, and placed his ear to her heart, 
then smilingly arose. Yes, there could be no doubt 
about it. She was alive, and he was positive that 
she was Mathilde, for she had the same crimson 
mole on her left breast that he had once com¬ 
mented on as being the same as the clue that sep¬ 
arated from Imogene’s jealous spouse the ring 
that he had staked against ten thousand ducats. 
He knelt down beside her and briskly massaged 
her head, arms, limbs, and entire body, stopping 
at intervals to kiss her. This was nothing un¬ 
usual, for he had kissed her many times before, 
and when she was conscious of it. He felt that 
he enjoyed this right to kiss her, predicating this 
right upon the fact that he had done so before. 
When the train reached Hildesheim, Burt stepped 
off the train with Mathilde, and laughingly 
shouted to the conductor to change his report to 
read: ''Seventeen injured and one badly shaken 
up.^^ 

"I believe that you told me once that this was 
your home town,'' Burt said, as they left the sta¬ 
tion. "And now that you are alive again, I guess 
that you are strong enough to go home. I'U 
see to it that you get there, and then I'll come 


THE PRINCE OP PASSION 


133 


back and get the next train to Hanover, and Vll 
give yonr old employer yonr best regards/^ 

‘‘Let me go back to Hanover with you, Jim,” 
she pleaded, and continuing, said: ‘ ‘ My vacation 
is at an end to-morrow, and IJl have to get back 
to the hotel anyway; so let me go along with you. ^ ^ 

The imploring look upon her face caused Burt 
to take her by the hand and lead her back again 
to the station. 

“I’ll take you with me as far as Hanover, but 
after that we play quits,” he informed her. “I 
do not want you to be following me up wherever 
I go, and hanging on to me as though I were 
your one best bet. I am going to stay there but 
a little while, perhaps only a day or so, and then 
I am going far, far away. I will send you a card 
as soon as I get to Naples,—provided I get there, 
—and if I ever reach this burg again. I’ll look 
you up.” 

A short while after the foregoing conversation 
Burt and his companion were aboard the train 
bound for Hanover. 

“It is just as comfortable riding in this coach 
as traveling a la Bradstreet’s best,” he remarked. 

She looked at him bewilderingly and said: “I 
do not quite understand what you mean. ’ ’ 

“You see,” he continued, “in America we have 
a mercantile agency known as Bradstreet’s, which 
serves the purpose of informing the business 
world the rating of certain individuals in busi¬ 
ness; some of these individuals are in the class 


134 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


termed Al, while others are in lower classes. It 
so happens sometimes that a man in one of the 
lower classes is just as comfortably fixed, and 
perhaps a little better off than a lot of those in 
the first class. The same thing applies to this 
coach, for I feel as well placed in this second-class 
coach as a lot of the passengers in the first-class 
coach ahead, and after all is said and done, the 
only difference between the first and the second 
class is the color of the upholstering on the seats; 
and, come to think of it, that is just exactly how 
it fares with people generally. Some wear fine 
garments, others simple attire, and some go 
shabby; but they are all human beings just the 
same, for the man that wears overalls may be 
much nobler than the one who wears an antiquated 
plug hat, and the woman who wears a simple frock 
looks a great deal better than the one all dolled 
up in an evening dress, which suggests the part 
of her which should be sacred to herself.’’ 

Mathilde looked at Burt amazingly as she drank 
in his strange philosophy. 

‘‘You are certainly a peculiar and queer fellow, 
Burt,” she informed him, “and perhaps that is 
why I am so wild about you. But you don’t care 
to be in right with a girl, and when she offers you 
her love, off you go on a tangent, and speak about 
mountains, sHes, rivers, or something of the sort. 
Have you never found a girl that you loved or 
cared for?” 

He stared at her for a moment, and his face 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


135 


grew red all over. His eye became moistened with 
a tear, as he answered her question. 

‘‘Yes, damn it!’^ he began; “I loved a woman 
once, but that was long, long ago. It is a painful 
thing to relate, but perhaps it will do you good 
to hear it. I did love a woman once, or a lovely 
creature I should say, that was just blending into 
beautiful womanhood. Perhaps if she had been 
of more mature years, a real woman, my love 
would not have been wasted. Men commit a 
grave error when they repose too great a confi¬ 
dence in the soul of youth. Childish instincts in 
the youthful girl make her a creature to be guarded 
against. 

“You have felt the warmth of a mother^s ca¬ 
ressing hand; you have known the joy of gazing 
upon an object beautiful; you have seen the twi¬ 
light follow in the wake of the sun as he made 
his passage to the west; you have seen the silvery 
moon steal into your bed-chamber at night; you 
have heard the babbling of the brook as it mean¬ 
dered onward with freedom; you have seen the 
buds of May unfold their scented hearts to the 
eye, filling all nature with fragrance; all of this, 
and more, one woman was once to me. I loved 
her with a love that stole away my reason. She 
was the one woman in whom I saw everything 
that was good, and on whom I built my every 
hope. She loved me, too, for a little while, but 
during my absence from home and while I was 
away at college struggling along to make myself 


136 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


worthy of her, she met another whom she learned 
to love better. I cannot go further with my story, 
nor tell you of the vow that is connected with it. 
I am trying to forget it all. Since the day that I 
learned the real truth I love all women; and now 
I have as many loves as I have ties, and IVe 
enough of them to last a normal lifetime. I do 
not exaggerate when I say that nowadays it is a 
very easy thing to obtain a woman’s love. Man, 
it seems, is just as necessary ^f or the sating of 
woman’s desire, as woman is essential to man’s 
vanity. All you need possess is a pair of expres¬ 
sive eyes and a dimple in your chin, and, presto! 
the trick is turned. Nine hundred and ninety- 
nine times out of a thousand, it is a safe bet, the 
broken hearts you meet in every one of the world’s 
pathways are due to the caprices, the whims, and 
the reckless folly that spring from the soul of 
Youth,—a soul to guard yourself against.” 

Before they knew it, Burt and Mathilde had 
arrived at Hanover. They separated at the sta¬ 
tion, only to meet a few minutes later at the hotel, 
where Mathilde worked and Burt resided. After 
partaking of a light meal, Burt sauntered forth 
to an old haunt. He was soon seated at his fa¬ 
vorite table at the Corso Cafe. He at least had 
kept his promise to return. 

Burt’s return, however, meant nothing to any¬ 
one. All of his American friends had set out for 
other places, and Lucy, the real object of his visit 
was visiting one of her girl companions. 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


137 


“Tell her I leave at six o^clock to-morrow morn¬ 
ing for Hamburg, from which point I will embark 
for Naples,’^ Burt said to Lucy^s father, as he 
bade him farewell. 


CHAPTER XVI 


If you do not care to imagine yourself a new 
being; if you have no desire to behold the beauty 
of an Italian sky, dotted with stars that appear 
as iridescent jewels; if the grandeur of the water, 
—with moonbeans dancing gaily on its bosom by 
night in dazzling color effects, in fiery splendor 
revealing its depths by day,—^has no charm for 
you, never venture into the peerless Bay of 
Naples. As your steamer creeps idly along, to 
the right you behold the mighty Vesuvius tower¬ 
ing over all things else, its double peaks kissed 
by the lingering orange-yellow beams that play 
about them in the waning beauty of the day, which 
later blend into a glowing crimson, and are finally 
overtaken by the soft bluish tints of evening. 
Neither God nor nature ever gifted a poet with 
language fitting enough to put in rhyme this fas¬ 
cinating scene, nor has the delicate hand of the 
artist been able to convey to the eye a beauty 
such as this. 

Among the many passengers enjoying the voy¬ 
age amid these surroundings was Jim Burt. 

‘‘An excellent opportunity to observe nature,’^ 
he remarked to the young lady standing near him. 

138 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


139 


“You are quite overcome with it all, are you 
not, signor she replied by way of interroga¬ 
tion. 

“Yes,’^ returned Burt; “it seems to instill a 
new kind of happiness into one^s being, and it is 
a pity that our trip will soon be over.^^ 

“You are an EnglishmanP’ she queried in 
broken English. 

Burt shot a hurried look at her, and in a half- 
angry tone replied: 

“I am an American, and no matter whatever 
anyone might be, he could not be anything better 
than that.^^ 

A short period of silence ensued, after which 
the young girl again spoke. 

“And what brings you so far away from 
homeT’ she asked. 

“I am touring about for pleasure and am on 
my way to Naples, he replied. 

“Naples!’’ she exclaimed. “Why, that is my 
home. It is beautiful. Its men are so gallant, and 
the women so different from other women,—every¬ 
thing is different. Your pulse beats faster, and 
your blood runs warmer in Naples than anywhere 
else, and I am sure you will like it.” 

“If you are an example of what I may expect 
to find in Naples,” Burt interposed, “then, all 
that you say has the semblance of truth. But, 
really, I am agreeably disappointed, for I truly 
believed that the only thing worth while in all 
Italy was Puccini.” 


140 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


She looked at him in a curious manner, and con¬ 
tinuing the conversation, asked: 

^^Are you very fond of Puccini T’ 

‘‘Yes,’’ replied Burt, “I am very fond of him. 
I think his ‘Madame Butterfly’ is as delightful 
and sympathetic as anything I ever heard in 
music. I am mighty fond of ‘Butterfly’ and but¬ 
terflies. I have loved the former for years, and 
chased the latter all my life. ’ ’ 

“I have a studio in Naples, and teach music to 
the daughters of some of our wealthiest mer¬ 
chants,” she remarked, “and if you wish, you may 
call to see me, and I will play ‘Butterfly’ for you 
from beginning to end. ” 

The conversation drifted from one thing to an¬ 
other, and eventually, like the voyage itself, came 
to an end. 

On arriving at Naples the Customs officials very 
hastily disfigured the contents of Burt’s suitcase, 
which in all likelihood would have fared worse, 
but for the fact that a few stray coins were sur¬ 
reptitiously slipped into the examiner’s hand. To 
Burt it was all very interesting, and reminded him 
of the manner in which a rag-and-bone handler 
wades into a garbage can in an endeavor to locate 
stray bits of his wares. Of course, the whole 
process can be avoided if you possess enough pres¬ 
ence of mind to let your hand slip gracefully into 
the examiner’s hand at the outset, and hardly any 
conscientious official would regard your action as 
a bribe, but rather as a token of your generosity. 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


141 


and to this particular official such an act is an as¬ 
surance that one so liberal to an individual, a total 
stranger as it were, would scarcely try to evade 
payment of duty to the government. 

‘Ht is rather late,^’ said Burt^s newly-formed 
acquaintance, ‘‘and if you will, I have the coziest 
little home in the city, where you may remain until 
you have selected quarters to-morrow. I promise 
you the prettiest room in the house. 

“That would be too much of an imposition, 
Burt replied. 

“Never mind,^^ she said; “just come along with 
me, and forget about impositions.’^ 

With which remark she hailed a passing fiacre, 
which soon brought them to a quiet, narrow street, 
wherein all the houses were half-hidden by tall 
maple trees. Stopping in front of one of these 
houses, on the signal of his companion, Burt and 
she alighted and entered the house. 

“It certainly does feel good to be home again,” 
she sighed, as they entered a large, spacious room 
that was all aglow with light, “and I want you 
to feel just as though you were at home.” 

The maid came in to greet her mistress, and 
bowing to Burt, relieved him of his baggage. 

“Do you wish to arise early in the morning?” 
asked Burt’s companion, after they had partaken 
of a light lunch and some vina rosa, and had con¬ 
versed for an hour or so. 

“I think that I will arise early, if you do not 


142 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


mind, ^ ^ Burt replied, ‘ ‘ and look about for a suit¬ 
able hotel/^ 

Whereupon she informed him that she would 
show him to his room. 

They ascended a wide, velvety flight of stairs. 
She was slightly ahead of him. He looked at her 
jet-black hair and her well-rounded neck, and felt 
as though he could throw both his arms around 
her. To him she appeared so delicately beautiful, 
so good to look upon. 

‘‘This is your room,^^ she informed him, as she 
pointed to one of the most sumptuously furnished 
rooms that Burt had ever beheld. “Good-night, 

Mr.- Oh! ^ ’ she exclaimed, ‘ ‘ you have not even 

told me your name.^’ 

The latter part of her speech being uttered in 
a sort of a stammer, as she halted in front of the 
door to his room. 

“Well, we are even on that score,Burt laugh¬ 
ingly replied, “My name is Dr. James Burt, but 
about the best I ever get from my friends is just 
plain Jim; and if you donT mind, Mimi,—or I 
should have said Signorina Mimi,—^you can do 
just the same as the rest of my friends.’^ 

“And who told you my name was Mimi?^^ she 
asked, looking at him in a sort of amazement. 

“You have a tiny placard on your door announc¬ 
ing your profession, and I noticed the name as I 
entered, Burt informed her. 

“That was very cute of you. Doctor,’’ she re¬ 
plied ; ‘ ‘ and you may call me Mimi, but you must 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


143 


not say Signorina, for it sounds so awfully formal 
and dry.’^ 

She then bade him good-night, and retired to a 
room immediately opposite to his. 

Next morning Burt arose early, without being 
awakened. Glancing from his window, he beheld 
a beautiful garden that stretched out for yards 
and yards. Nature was still asleep, and only the 
stray note of a bird could be heard, while the 
flowers hid their drowsy heads beneath the steel- 
gray shades of morning, which still hung over 
them. Once dressed, Burt could not resist the 
temptation of venturing down into the garden. 
He entered it with a feeling of content. It seemed 
to mean so much to him. There is a sublime feel¬ 
ing that takes hold of the lover of nature in those 
prime, silent moments of the day. Down a grav¬ 
eled path he wandered until he arrived at a slope 
that was all in verdure clad. An invisible some¬ 
thing seemed to draw him thither, and he half- 
consciously threw himself to the ground. Several 
hours later he was aroused from a deep sleep, into 
which he had fallen. 

‘‘How about breakfast he heard a soft voice 
ask, and looking up, he saw Mimi standing over 
him and smiling. 

“I suppose I became intoxicated with the in¬ 
cense of the flowers,he said, “and would have 
slept for hours, perhaps, had you not been kind 
enough to awaken me. ^ ^ 

Together Burt and Mimi strolled back to the 


144 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


house. After breakfast she invited him into the 
parlor, where she sat beside him on a large wicker 
chair. 

‘‘From what you have told me about Naples, 
Burt said, “you should be very happy to be a 
Neapolitan. 

At this point she interrupted him. 

“I am not a Neapolitan,’^ she declared. “Al¬ 
though Naples has been my home for many years, 
I was born in Catania, beautiful Catania, the 
jewel of Sicily, where the laurel and myrtle grow, 
and where Mount Etna peeps into the heavens. 
My parents died some years ago in the terrible 
earthquake that destroyed Messina, where they 
had gone on a visit to my uncle. I remained with 
my maternal grandmother until I married. ’ ’ 

“Married!” shouted Burt, as he jumped to his 
feet. 

“Please do sit down,” she insisted, as she took 
Burt by the sleeve of his coat, “and wait until I 
have finished.” 

Burt nonchalantly obeyed. 

“Yes,” she resumed, “I married a worthless 
sort of a fellow that I did not want and did not 
love, just because my guardian figured that he was 
about the best man in the world for me. It was not 
long before I grew disgusted, and ran away from 
him. I had received a very good musical educa¬ 
tion, and felt sure that I could earn my own liveli¬ 
hood by teaching music; and with this resolve I 
came to Naples.” 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


145 


Burt looked at her for a moment. She had big 
dark-brown eyes, just like his, and a dimple in her 
chin. He seemed to be admiring in her the iden¬ 
tical things that she admired in him. He broke 
the silence by telling her the story of his life, and 
then said: 

^ ^ There seems to be only one ditference between 
the two of us. You got that which you did not 
want, and I failed to get that which I wanted.’’ 

feel that when everything is said and 
done,” she replied, ^‘you are the luckier of the 
two.” 

Burt suddenly took her hand in his and as sud¬ 
denly let it go again. A kind of icy coldness was 
upon it. 

am at this moment thinking of an aria from 
^La Boheme,’ ” Burt said, ^^and I can say with 
Puccini, ‘ Mimi, thy tiny hand is frozen. ’ ’ ’ 

‘^What of it?” she asked, as all of her blood 
seemed to flow to her face. 

‘^That’s merely a suggestion that you play,” 
Burt quickly replied, and then, taking her hand 
again, he led her across the room to her piano. 

‘‘What shall I play?” she asked. 

“Something of your own selection,” was Burt’s 
reply. She immediately started playing an air 
well known to Burt, and one that was peculiarly 
Neapolitan. He listened attentively to the end. 

“Do you know it?” Mimi asked, as she turned 
to him after finishing the piece. 

“ ‘0 Sole Mio,’—^my sunshine,” he answered. 


146 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


is a fascinating melody, and has always made 
a strange appeal to me. ^ ’ 

The remainder of the morning was filled with 
music. After luncheon Burt retired to his room, 
and a little later appeared with his suit-case in 
hand. Mimi looked at him somewhat surprised. 

‘‘What does all of this meanP’ she queried. 

“My time is up here, and I must be leaving,’^ 
Burt replied. “I thank you immensely for the 
hospitality you have shown me and after I have 
found myself other quarters,—if you don’t mind, 
—I’ll stop in once in a while for a little chat and a 
little music. ’ ’ 

Mimi stepped immediately in front of him, and 
taking hold of his hand, said: 

“Dr. Burt, it is not necessary that you find other 
quarters during your stay in Naples. I want you 
to remain here with me. My home, my garden, my 
music, anything you wish is yours, if you will only 
remain. ’ ’ 

The appeal in her eye was too much for Burt, 
and pressing her hand tightly he said: 

“If you will promise to call me Jim instead of 
Dr. Burt, as I suggested last night, I will re¬ 
main. ’ ’ 

“That is very nice of you, Jim, and I promise 
to be a sister to you, if you will let me,” Mimi 
answered winsomely. 

A week elapsed, during which Burt and Mimi 
were together. Nights found them at some place 
of amusement down in the old Santa Lucia Quar- 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


147 


ter, and pupils were told from day to day that 
there would be no more lessons until further 
notice. One night, while they were sitting on the 
very slope in the garden upon which Burt had 
fallen asleep on the morning following his arrival 
in Naples, they were talking in the pale moonlight. 
Mimics face bore a happiness that Burt had not 
noticed before, and he at once reached the conclu¬ 
sion that the tide is not the only thing that is gov¬ 
erned by the moon. 

‘‘Do you not think that you could enjoy an in¬ 
definite stay in Naples T’ she asked. 

‘ ‘ I could not entertain an idea of that sort, ^ ^ he 
replied. 

“CanT you understand,’^ she continued, “that 
if you could do so, you would make me exceed¬ 
ingly happy. I loved you, Jim, when I first be¬ 
held you, and that is why I stood beside you at the 
rail of our steamer at the moment you were ad¬ 
miring your surroundings. Then I induced you 
to come here, so that I could continue to look upon 
you, and when you were about to leave I coaxed 
you to remain, promising that I would be a sister 
to you. But now, Jim, I realize that I am not con¬ 
tent with loving you as a sister. I feel a deeper, 
warmer love stealing all over me, and just what 
the sun means to the earth, that is what you mean 
to me. I may be hasty in telling you all of this, 
but I simply cannot restrain myself any longer.” 

Burt cast a look at her which was the very 
essence of sympathy and contempt combined. 


148 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


‘H do not know just how long I will remain 
here/^ he said, ‘‘but I do know that you have no 
right to love me, much less to tell me that you do. 
You are a married woman, and as such you have 
exercised your choice. ’ ’ 

^^Do not say that, Jim, donT be cruel,she 
cried, as her head fell on his shoulder. ‘‘You do 
not know and you cannot understand what it 
means to be married to a person that you hate and 
despise, and the tears flowed from her beautiful 
eyes. “Society, meaningless thing that it is, can¬ 
not deprive you of the right to love, when the real 
object of your love comes into your life. You are 
that object, Jim, and I do have the right to love 
you.^’ 

Burt knew that Mimi was right in what she said. 
We all have the right to live and love. Loving is 
living, and without love there is no Hfe. To many 
love is hut a relative term, is measured by degrees, 
and is often bestowed upon those to whom it least 
belongs. To most men it means being married to 
one woman, who entered into the marital state for 
one of numerous reasons,—either wealth, social 
position, a home, or in an endeavor to leave some 
department-store prison or sweatshop factory. 
To a great many women it means being mated to a 
man that regards a wife as a mere drudge, some¬ 
one to care for his laundry and meals and to cater 
to his every whimsy. But the love that is lasting 
and is unchangeable under any and all conditions 
is just like charity, it gives all and asks nothing. 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


149 


The right to love is a God-given right, it is abso¬ 
lute in every respect; and it was only this right 
that Mimi was asserting. 

Bnrt arose and pleaded with her to say no more 
that evening, and together they idly strolled to the 
house. Once there, Bnrt on pretext of being ex¬ 
ceedingly sleepy, bade Mimi good-night, and 
hastily fled to his room. He had not been there 
very long before he heard a sharp knock at his 
door. 

^^Who is there r’ he asked. 

‘ ^ I have something to tell yon, ’ ’ came the reply. 
It was the voice of Mimi’s maid, and Bnrt started 
for the door somewhat startled. 

^^My mistress complains of being ill, and wants 
yon to come to her room. Dr. Bnrt,’^ she said. 

He hesitated for a moment, then commanded the 
maid to lead the way. 

A delicate fragrance of perfume greeted him as 
he entered MimPs bed-chamber. Mimi was lying 
across the bed, crying hysterically. Bnrt bent 
over her and took her pulse. 

‘^What seems to be ailing yonP^ he asked, as he 
placed his other hand on her forehead. By this 
time the maid had gone, and Bnrt found himself 
alone with his patient. ‘^Yonr pulse is a little 
fast,” he remarked. 

She beckoned him to sit down on the edge of her 
bed, and after he had done so, she said: 

‘‘Jim, I am all wrought up over our conversa¬ 
tion of this evening. I forgot to tell you that I 


150 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


obtained a divorce from my husband, and am 
therefore at liberty to love anyone I care to.’’ 

Burt looked at her half-disdainfully. She was 
not ill, and did not need his attention. He could 
not understand why she had sent for him. What 
she had to say could surely keep until morning, at 
least that is what he thought. 

‘‘Yes, the pulse does beat faster and the blood 
runs warmer in Naples,” said Burt, “and what is 
more, my heart seems to be keeping time to each 
pulsation. Mimi, I do love you, but my love is a 
sort of gypsy love, and cannot endure very long. 
It is a love based on passion. ’ ’ Burt ran his hand 
through her hair. “There’s a ripple in every 
wave,” he said, and then bent over her and kissed 
her. She held him in a tight embrace. 

The golden dawn broke over Naples,—a dawn 
that came as a fitting climax to the night that pre¬ 
ceded it. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Mimi was a sort of a puzzle to Burt, but he was 
very fond of solving puzzles. Her nature re¬ 
sponded so freely to his that he concluded that she 
was his other half; while to Mimi, Burt was the 
one man capable of satisfying the crying need 
within her. 

do not know what I will do after you have 
gone away. You mean so much to me now that 
to even think of your going drives me almost 
frantic,’’ she said to him the night before his in¬ 
tended departure for Algiers. 

‘ ‘ I am quite sure that you have plenty of friends 
in Naples, and for that reason alone you should 
not miss me very long,” he replied. 

‘^Yes, I have plenty of friends, but they do not 
mean to me what you have meant and now mean. 
We have different friends for different purposes, 
but you are the only one I really love,” she in¬ 
formed him. 

Burt looked at her intently. Her eyes were 
large and glossy, while her hands were about her 
neck in such a manner as to lead one to believe 
that she was endeavoring to strangle herself. Her 
face was the color of a crimson rose. His hand 
stole its way to her hair, and he artfully caused it 
151 


152 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


to fall until her shoulders were covered with its 
tresses. 

^‘I must retire, Jim, or I will go mad,’^ she 
cried, as she dashed away from him, not stopping 
until she reached her room. After securely fas¬ 
tening the door, she fell across her bed at full 
length, and wept aloud. Burt, who had followed 
close behind her, was surprised to find the door 
leading to her room locked. He tapped thereon 
without receiving any response, and although he 
called to her several times, she did not answer. 
Burt knew what was the matter. Those glossy 
eyes had told their story. 

Burt having given up all hope of gaining admis¬ 
sion to her room, hastily made for his own, and 
forthwith retired. Whether by intention or not, 
he permitted his door to remain unfastened. He 
soon fell asleep, and might have slept through the 
entire night but for the fact that the creaking of 
hinges suddenly aroused him. Scanning about to 
ascertain, if possible, what was going on, he lay 
silent upon his bed. A stream of moonlight 
flooded his room with a silvery-green tint. Look¬ 
ing toward the door, he saw a ghostlike object all 
dressed in white. On tiptoes it approached his 
bed. He did not stir and feigned sleep. A few 
seconds elapsed, but they were full of suspense 
and suspicion. 

Burt soon felt a soft, warm hand upon his face 
and soon knew that another face was in close 
proximity with his own. Burt suddenly sat up- 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


153 


right in his bed, only to find Mimi looking him 
square in the face. 

‘^Well, what is the matter now, Mimi Burt 
asked, as he grasped her by the hand. 

feel so miserable, Jim,’’ she said weepingly, 
—^‘so miserable that I had to come to you. Do 
not send me away from you. ’ ’ Mimi threw herself 
crosswise upon Burt and sobbed aloud. The 
moonlight played upon his bed, and displayed 
Mimi’s entire outline of body, which was delicately 
garbed in a soft V-cut nightgown. Burt kissed 
her at the very point where the V intersected. 

‘^Mimi, you are playing with fire!” he ex¬ 
claimed. 

‘^Then, let it burn me,” came her quick reply, 
‘‘for even though you leave for Algiers to¬ 
morrow,—to-night—to-night— Crush me, Jim.” 

Later on that night Burt said: 

“Mimi, you have been very difficult at times to 
solve, but I have managed to solve you. You and 
I are fitting objects to be distrusted by each other. 
A man that succumbs to the wiles of one woman 
will succumb to the wiles of another, and the 
woman who yields to the passions of one man will 
yield to those of another.” 

“You are in error, Jim,” she replied. “A 
woman madly in love with a man knows no bounds, 
is not regulated by any customs or conventions, 
but submissively surrenders to that one man 
everything for love, not caring what society may 
say, and living only in the hope of having that one 


154 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


man all for herself. Such a woman am I, and 
whether you believe me or not, I love you with all 
my heart, and will ever be faithful unto you.*^ 
Since passion is not crushed in one attempt, nor 
in many attempts, new flames arise which, in turn, 
are extinguished again, and while Mimi might 
have spoken the truth, and Burt believed that she 
did, he, however, was no kin to faithfulness; and 
when morning came again, true to his promise, he 
bade Mimi farewell forever, and left for Algiers. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


The white city of Algiers basks beneath the hot 
African snn. Bnt a while ago it harbored the 
Moorish corsair. The city arises from a royal- 
hned sea, shaded by the Sahel, a wooded slope 
stndded with exquisite terraces. It is an Oriental 
city in every respect. The day of the Arab and 
twentieth-century ideals and customs both exist 
here, for here the East is confused with the West. 
A golden serenity prevails over everything. In 
Algiers life is all joy, all happiness, all love, all 
passion, for Nature decreed all these enchant¬ 
ments for the sunny Orient. 

In the famous Botanical Gardens of Hamma, 
Jim Burt found himself admiring a shady twilight 
amid lanes of bamboo and giant palms. It seemed 
like a huge forest, whose very air was impreg¬ 
nated with exotic scents, distributed by myriads of 
varied flowers. He was aroused from a deep con¬ 
templation by a soft voice, which spoke in a cor¬ 
rupt French. Turning sharply around, he beheld 
what might properly be termed one of the true 
daughters of Islam, clad in Oriental baggy trou¬ 
sers. Burt looked at her in astonishment. High 
tan lace boots below the trousers and a deep veil 
over her face, the latter being in strict accordance 
155 


156 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


with the tenets of Islam, made np a combination 
that struck him as rather freakish. He deter¬ 
mined that he had to see the face so effectively 
hidden by that veil, and at once divined a method 
whereby he might succeed. 

‘‘Are you ashamed to exhibit your beauty, 
madam, or is it your desire to hide your face for 
the lack of itP' Burt asked in a sarcastic manner. 

“It is the custom of the place, monsieur, and in 
strict conformity with the teachings of my 
people,^’ she replied. 

“Then I am very, very sorry that I cannot con¬ 
verse with you further,^’ Burt informed her, “as 
I have always made it my policy to look fellow- 
beings in the eye when speaking to them; and since 
that is quite impossible in this case, I must be on 
my way. ’ ’ 

He thereupon turned sharply, and left her with¬ 
out even as much as bidding her good-day. 

Burt spent the next morning at the hotel writing 
letters. One of these was addressed to an old 
friend in Bridgeport, in which letter he said: 

I am getting along pretty well, and have thus far succeeded 
fairly well in keeping that which you know to be so sacred to 
me. Incidentally, I may write that I have met at least one 
woman whom I could really love; but really, old pal, I just can’t 
settle the matter in my mind. I do not feel as though I have 
fully carried out my intentions, and for that reason I have prac¬ 
tically spurned her. She is a very noble woman, but all of 
them appear that way at first blush. The little Bridgeport girl 
that stole away my youth and reason appeared to be very noble 
also, but only you know how she wrecked my life. She was the 
rose that bloomed in my beautiful garden of dreams; but Fate, 
that cruel gardener, stole her away from me. I trust that her 


‘ THE PRINCE OP PASSION 157 

soul is as happy and peaceful in Heaven, as I am miserable on 
this earth. 

Sometimes I get an opportunity for doing a good deed, and 
that is about the only redeeming feature that I have. Not very 
long ago I cured what appeared to be a hopeless little cripple, 
but really, I have even learned to hate the practice of medicine, 
and do not think that I will ever practice it again for a liveli¬ 
hood. I think that I will return to the States some day, and 
tal^ up the study of law, the practice of which renders one such 
a big opportunity for putting across deception—deceiving now 
being one of my chief virtues. 

This and a whole lot more Burt penned to his 
friend, then sauntered off again to the Botanical 
Garden. 

Burt was sitting on one of the long wooden 
benches placed on either side of a beautiful path, 
smoking a cigarette and gazing idly into space, 
when a tall woman of remarkable beauty passed 
by. She appeared to be looking for a seat, and not 
being successful in finding one elsewhere, she 
returned to where Burt sat and asked him if he 
had any objection to her sharing a part of his 
bench. 

Straightway Burt arose and asked her to be 
seated, then lost no time in engaging her in con¬ 
versation. 

‘'I presume that you are not acclimated to this 
place, ^ ^ he remarked, as he reseated himself. 

Somewhat, she assured him, by way of in¬ 
forming him that as a matter of fact she had spent 
her entire life in Algiers. 

‘^And I thought that you were just a visitor 
here like myself,'' he ventured; ‘'and, by the way, 
you have a familiar voice." 


158 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


“I am glad that you can look me in the eye and 
tell me that,” she replied as a smile came to her 
face. 

Burt looked at her in a curious way, and in¬ 
formed her that he did not quite get the signifi¬ 
cance of her remark. 

am the veiled lady of yesterday. Do you re¬ 
member running away from meT’ 

‘‘The deuce, you say Burt ejaculated; “but I 
certainly am glad that you left that curtain off 
to-day. If I had a pretty face I would want the 
world to see it. Beauty was intended to be looked 
upon and admired. 

“Do you admire beautiful womenshe asked. 

‘ ‘ If they give me a chance I do, ^ ’ came his quick 
response. 

Burt and the woman conversed for nearly two 
hours. At length he looked at his watch and arose 
as if to go. 

“You are a stranger in these parts, are you 
not 1 ^ she questioned. 

“Yes, a complete stranger,'' he replied, and 
then, looking slightly upward, said: “Your days 
are so serenely delightful, and the warmth of 
Algeria’s sun so comforting, that I may remain 
here a good while. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Could you. entertain the idea of a comrade dur¬ 
ing your stay?” she asked coaxingly. “You see, 
Algiers is a city of pleasure, of play, of love. It 
is a city of dreams, where even the palms and the 
bamboos court one another, and the flowers ex- 


159 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 

change sweet greetings of love. Until yesterday 
I was not even as happy as a flower, and to-day, 
for the first time, the sun plays upon my unveiled 
face. There was something in Nature yesterday 
that drew me to where you sat; and while I ap¬ 
proached you reluctantly, I could not resist the 
temptation of speaking to you. The moment I 
beheld you it seemed as though I received a mes¬ 
sage from the flowers. I just had to say some¬ 
thing to you, had to tell you something,—I know 
not what. I was so disappointed when you ran 
away that I went home and wept all night. I de¬ 
termined to return to-day in the hope of seeing 
you; and Fate certainly has been very kind to me. 
Our garden here has a beautiful avenue of latan- 
ias, and if you say so, I will take you through it. 
It is much more pleasant to spend an hour or so 
in^this beautiful place than to observe the Moorish 
Fetes that are being exhibited to-day./^ 

Burt looked intently at the young woman. He 
was half astounded, half mystified. Had any 
other woman spoken to him in this manner, with¬ 
out provocation on his part, he would have con¬ 
sidered her brazen. But she! She had not even 
the slightest intention of being brazen. There was 
something magical in her sonorous voice. There 
was something strikingly wonderful in her sim¬ 
plicity. She was beautiful. * 

‘‘Come,’’ said Burt, '‘let us be comrades; let us 
wander through your avenue of latanias.^’ 

Through bamboo path and palmetto lane they 


160 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


strolled until at last the avenue of latanias was 
reached. At the end of their stroll, she withdrew 
her veil from a huge purse that she carried at her 
side, and adjusting the diaphanous drapery, in¬ 
formed Burt that the natives would severely criti¬ 
cize her if they caught her exposing her face in 
the streets. 

^‘Perhaps you would like to meet my father, 
she said. ‘^He is a very intelligent man, despite 
the fact that he is an Arab. He is at present in 
Biskra disposing of some of his wares, and will 
be home in a day or so. After that he returns to 
Biskra, from which place he will accompany a 
large caravan over the Sahara. Father has prom¬ 
ised to take me along with him on his next trip, 
and I am awaiting his coming with the greatest 
anxiety. I have crossed the desert four times, and 
each time I find it more delightful. God seems to 
manifest Himself in so many ways out in the open, 
and one breathes freedom and liberty there. 

Burt listened attentively. A new thought was 
passing through his mind, one that was irresist¬ 
ible. L- 

‘‘The Sahara!^’ he exclaimed emotionally. 
“Yes, I shall be more than pleased to meet your 
father, for the simple reason that he is your 
father. I really wish that I were an Arab myself, 
—a child of the desert. ’ ^ 

“But you do not have to be an Arab to cross the 
desert,she informed him. “Maybe Papa will 
take you along with»us, and we can together view 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


161 


and admire Allah wonderful garden. But you 
do not believe in Allah,—do you?^^ she finally 
asked. 

Burt thought for a moment then replied: 

‘^Yes, I do. Allah is only another name for 
God, and since God is God, it makes no difference 
what name you give him. In China they call Him 
Buddha; the Hindus named Him Brahma, and all 
over the world He is called by different names. 

‘^That is true,’’ she said with a sincere nod of 
her head. 

Burt thereupon bade his companion farewell 
and instructed her to send word to his hotel when 
and where he could meet her father. Back to his 
hotel he went, through what appeared to be the 
noisiest streets in the world, filled with gay Ameri¬ 
cans and careless Englishmen, robust Scandi¬ 
navians, loud-mouthed Italians, and sneaky-look¬ 
ing Spaniards. As a matter of fact, it seemed as 
though the whole earth was pretty well repre¬ 
sented' in Algiers, and, to^ add to the bustle and 
din, huge carriages drawn by Arab horses were 
driven up and down by swarthy Moors, uttering 
queer sounds. Burt jostled his way through the 
cosmopolitan crowd, until at last, all worn out, he 
found himself back again in his room. 

That night Burt dreamt of veiled ladies all 
dressed in white,—dreamt that he saw avenue 
after avenue of bamboo, palmetto, and latania, 
and above all he dreamt thatjie felt his feet sink- 


162 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


ing into the warm sands of the Sahara,—yes, even 
saw the beautiful, boundless desert. And, to cap 
the climax of his dreams, the Arab’s daughter 
smiled upon him. 


CHAPTEE XIX 


Seveeal days elapsed before the return from 
Biskra of the Arab merchant. In the meantime, 
his lovely daughter, Ayesha, and Burt were be¬ 
coming more and more devoted to each other. 
Burt had started to believe that he really loved the 
maiden, and felt somewhat assured that she cared 
for him, despite the fact that she had never even 
ventured the slightest suggestion along this line. 
The happy day for both Burt and Ayesha at last 
arrived. Abdul Ahmed, Ayesha ^s father, re¬ 
turned to Algiers, bringing fine gifts for his 
friends and lovely jewels for his daughter. 

Burt and the Arab soon became acquainted and 
a strange sort of fellowship grew up between 
them. Burt liked the Arab for his simplicity, his 
Oriental manners, and lastly, for his sincerity. 
The Arab, in turn, liked Burt for his knowledge, 
intensity of feeling, and because he was simply 
Burt. 

‘‘Yes,’^ said Abdul Ahmed after nearly two 
weeks had elapsed; ^Hhe three of us will journey 
together through the desert. You are going to' 
like it, my friend, I am sure. You shall see 
Mahomet ^s wonderful country. It is so different 
from everything else in the world. The desert is 
163 


164 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


colossal, vast, glorious. There you can enjoy 
peace of mind, peace of soul,—real, delightful 
peace. There you can behold the wondrous ma¬ 
jesty of Nature and witness the living truth; 
there you will feel that you are far, far away from 
malice, hatred, and oppression.’^ 

know neither malice nor hatred, but oppres¬ 
sion, self-oppression, I long to flee from it,” Burt 
replied almost dramatically. 

A week later found Burt, Ayesha, and her 
father on their way to Biskra, the route to which 
lies through the mighty and romantic gorge of El 
Kantara, thence over the bridge that leads into the 
great, sandy Sahara. Through the mountain 
shadows, crossing dashing streams, that seemed to 
dance along to the music of the waters that hur¬ 
ried on over time-worn rocks, they passed, until 
the blazing sun of the limitless Sahara was 
reached. 

To Burt it appeared at first glance as a desolate 
landscape, but, on beholding the boundless area of 
sand that extended far off toward the horizon, and 
viewing the delightful oasis of El Kantara, a calm, 
a feeling of contentment, came over him. Biskra 
was reached in due time. 

‘‘It is a beautiful desert town, and we call it the 
Queen of the Sahara,” Abdul Ahmed informed 
Burt. “Its inhabitants adhere strictly to all the 
old customs and beliefs and to the faith handed 
down by the Prophet. I have somewhat outgrown 
these beliefs and living the better part of my life 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


165 


in Algiers, where foreigners gather from all quar¬ 
ters of the earth, I have become what you might 
term a reformed Mohammedan. I do not believe 
that our women should be deprived of the rights 
of society and social contact. You will see but few 
women in the desert towns, and those will in all 
likelihood be veiled, with the possible exception of 
the aged ones and the base Almees.^’ 

Burt and his companions were somewhat tired 
out, as the journey from Algiers to Biskra is 
rather long and strenuous, and after agreeing 
upon a meeting-place for the following day, Burt 
went to the Hotel Royale, while Abdul Ahmed and 
Ayesha went to the home of a friend. Passing by 
what appeared to be an organized gang of juvenile 
beggars, which sang out in a body, ‘^un sou, mon¬ 
sieur, un sou,’^ Burt finally reached the hotel. 
Burt soon learned the fact that the Arab is faith¬ 
ful and constant, and his friendship once gained is 
not so easily lost. His constancy is like his faith, 
unalterable and immutable, both having stood the 
test of thirteen centuries. 

At the expense of a few francs, Burt soon made 
some good Arab friends. One reason why he was 
liked was because he had dark eyes. This the 
Moslem admires, while on the other hand he ex¬ 
presses at all times his detestation of light eyes. 
Another and yet better reason for the friendship 
that grew up between Burt and the children of the 
desert was that Burt was in sympathy with them 
in all they did. Being among Arabs, he was an 


166 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


Arab; their faith became his faith, their God, his 
God. 

‘‘After all,^^ said Burt, “where can you find a 
better faith T’ 

The only point on which they were divided was 
woman. Burt did not like the manner of their 
being secreted away like nuns, hidden away from 
the gaze of all mortals. 

Several days were spent by Burt and his com¬ 
panions in Biskra, where diversified amusements 
took up their time, one of which amusements was 
the mad dance of the dervishes,—a set of fanatic 
charlatans that performed incredible feats. 

By intuition, no doubt, Burt on the fourth night 
of his stay in Biskra, found his way into the street 
of the Ouled Nails, or dancing girls, all of whom 
go about unveiled, and are known for their lewd 
and licentious habits. One of these dancing girls 
or Almees, as they are called, named Zola, beauti¬ 
ful both in face and form, seemed to make quite an 
impression on Burt, and he became a steady 
visitor at her abode. His Arab friends pleaded 
with him to abandon this quarter of the city, and 
to shun the society of these girls. The virtue of 
the Arab is not open to question. There is no 
people possessing greater virtue. It was, per¬ 
haps, through the etforts of Abdul Ahmed and 
Ayesha that Burt eventually promised to let 
women and drink alone. 

Burt found much suffering in Biskra, and, had 
he so cared, could have found himself very useful 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


167 


as a physician, something that is badly needed in 
these parts. An old Arab, very pions and learned 
in the Koran, who had even made the pilgrimage 
to Mecca, had told him that Mahomet had said, 
‘‘That he who snccored to the needs of the sick 
would enter into Paradise immediately after 
death, but Burt simply listened. He soon ascer¬ 
tained that native garb would serve him better 
than his customary attire, and he became an Arab 
in so far as his dress was concerned, his burnoose 
becoming him to a wonderful degree. 

There is an old merchant in Biskra who makes 
it his business to fit out caravans for parties desir¬ 
ing to travel through the desert, and it was to this 
merchant that Abdul Ahmed made known his 
wants. A few days later all was in readiness. 
Each and every detail of the journey had been ex¬ 
cellently taken care of, and the camels prepared 
and equipped with every necessity. 

“We will first proceed to Sidi Okba,’’ said 
Abdul Ahmed. 

“In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the 
Merciful, we shall now proceed to Sidi Okba, ’ ’ 
Burt replied. 

“Already a true Arab!^’ Abdul exclaimed, and 
continuing, said: “Yes, everything that we do is 
in his name. With two exceptions, the inspired 
Prophet commenced every one of the Suras of the 
Koran with those words, and it fares well with 
him who does all things in the name of Him that 
suffers all things to be done. ^ ’ 


168 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


The distance from Biskra to Sidi Okba is ap¬ 
proximately fourteen miles, and Burt and his com¬ 
panions figured that they could well make the 
journey in a reasonable time, and all of them were 
of the opinion that they could reach there before 
night. The day was fair and warm and the desert 
road in excellent condition. The little journey had 
got well under way, and over five miles already 
separated the party from Biskra, when Burt be¬ 
held that which his heart had long craved. In¬ 
stinctively, he shouted to Ayesha and her father : 

‘ ‘ Behold! A tempest of sand! ’ ^ 

It seems as though Burt grew happier each 
moment, while the faces of Ayesha and her father 
showed signs of fear. Burt found great joy in the 
cry of a raven, which now and then flew over his 
head. 

‘‘This is going to be a terrible storm,Abdul 
Ahmed said in a frightful tone of voice; “and we 
had better turn our backs to the wind, or the sand 
will choke us. ^ ^ 

A moment later a veritable hill of sand nearly 
swept Burt from off his camel. For the moment 
it seemed to bewilder him. There was no trace of 
life anywhere; nothing but a broad expanse of 
warm sand, swept by the wind until it became bil¬ 
lowy. 

“It will be impossible for us to reach Sidi Okba 
to-night,^’ Abdul Ahmed suggested; “and as soon 
as this storm is over we will pitch our tent, and 
tarry until the coming of morning.’’ 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


169 


'^What are you thinking about, Mr. Burt?’^ 
asked Abdul Ahmed that evening, as they and 
Ayesha sat outside their tent. 

Burt gazed upward to the skies and then, facing 
Abdul, said: 

‘‘How wonderful it is to be at peace with your¬ 
self for a little while. Just to think of it, that only 
a short while ago all nature seemed so furious, and 
now, how calm it is; how beautiful the desert ap¬ 
pears, and, even though it is night, the moon 
seems to glory as it plays on its sandy bosom. 
Just a while ago I was like the storm, and now I 
am possessed of such a generous calm! I fear 
that I may become so enamored, so delighted with 
these wondrous surroundings, that I may become 
a son of the desert.^’ 

“Whatever is the will of Allah, that you will 
be, ^ ^ said Abdul Ahmed. 

“So you, too, believe in predestination,^^ Burt 
interposed. 

“Yes,^’ Abdul replied, “for Mahomet said that 
‘no mischance chanceth either on earth or in your 
person, which, ere we brought it into being, was 
not in the Book.^ 

“You have a good and ready reply, my friend, 
for nearly everything, ^ ^ Burt said in a manner of 
praise. 

After much friendly discussion, Burt suggested 
that Abdul and Ayesha retire, remarking that he 
desired to feast upon the glory of the night for yet 


170 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


a little while. Abdul took kindly to the suggestion, 
hut Ayesha expressed a desire to remain awake 
for a while; and she and Burt soon found them¬ 
selves alone outside the tent. 


CHAPTER XX 


A STAE-BESPANGLED skj; a radiant moon; a black- 
haired and black-eyed Arabian girl; a calm, warm 
night; the desert, the great Sahara, and sand,— 
billowy sand, everywhere, an ocean of sand. 
These and all of these were for Bnrt’s admiration. 

‘^Ayesha, I never dreamt that in this vast, 
mighty realm of silence, I could be so profoundly 
happy,’’ Burt said. ‘‘Away from the whirl of 
civilization and from the din and noise of towns 
and cities.” 

Ayesha looked at him wonderingly, and to add 
to his surprise and supreme pleasure, she told him 
tales of the desert and of Arabs. As though un¬ 
conscious of his action, Burt stretched out at body 
length, and idly placed his head upon Ayesha’s 
lap. She made no comment, but continued on with 
her tales. Time sped along unnoticed. What is 
time in the desert? At the end of her tale-telling 
Burt looked up to greet the large, black eyes that 
were peering down at him. The moon lit up his 
face. 

“Allah is good, Ayesha,” he said, “and one of 
His most beauteous creations is Ayesha’s voice, 
her hair, her eyes. ’ ’ 

She only smiled at his remarks, but deep down 
in her soul she knew that Burt was fanning the 
171 


172 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


spark that lodged in her heart the first time she 
saw him at Algiers. 

The next morning the journey to Sidi Okba was 
resumed. The charming little oasis was reached 
in due course, and it was determined upon that the 
party remain there for several days. Burt was 
introduced to the Said, an old acquaintance and 
friend of Abdul Ahmed, a man well versed in the 
Koran, and a devout follower of the Prophet. A 
strong friendship quickly grew up between Burt 
and the Said. 

‘^You would do well, my son, to remain in the 
desert,’^ the old Said remarked to Burt two days 
after the latter ^s arrival. think the problems 
of your past would be solved best in that manner, 
and the disquietude of your heart and mind for¬ 
ever eradicated by the silent bliss of our glorious 
land and the truth and frankness of its people.’^ 

Burt looked at the Said in sheer bewilderment. 

^‘Pray tell me whence comes your knowledge F’ 
Burt questioned. 

‘‘Be content in knowing, my son, that your ad¬ 
viser knows whereof he speaks,^’ replied the Said. 
“The little Ayesha loves you. A woman of her 
kind was created for you and will make you happy. 
She can not tell you, but I can, that she loves 
you-’’ 

“Say no more!^^ Burt interrupted,—“say no 
more! I am unfit for her. I am unfit for any 
woman. I must love unloved, and shall never 
marry. 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


173 


The Said went on no further. 

Several days later Bnrt and his companions 
hade the Said farewell, and journeyed further on 
into the desert. Day after day was spent in trav¬ 
eling, and night after night Burt and Ayesha 
would sit outside their tent. She would tell him 
tales of Araby and he would reward her efforts 
with praises that she yearned to hear. 

^^Do you know, Ayesha,^’ he asked one night 
before the journey was to end, ‘‘what love is?^^ 

“Love!^^ she exclaimed. 

“Yes,^^ he replied. “The term has always 
been a puzzling one, hut something that the old 
Said of Sidi Okba told me prompts my inquiry. ^ ^ 

“Suppose you let me know what you think it 
is, ’ ^ she said, a look of interest lurking in her big, 
black eyes. 

“Love,^^ Burt began, “is the one thing that is 
greater than life. It is, has been, and always will 
be the thing that survives life. It is an idol at the 
shrine of which nearly all mortals worship, and it 
knows no religion, caste, nor creed. It is the 
heavenly unison of two souls; the soul of a good 
woman coupled with the soul of a good man. It 
comes with the morning light, all nature to adorn, 
and flourishes everywhere, on land and sea, in the 
mountain, valley, hill, and dale, and even the heart 
of the great Sahara. ^ * 

“Then love is all in all,’’ Ayesha replied, and 
then asked: “Have you ever been in love?” 

“You have apparently forgotten a part of my 


174 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


definition/^ Bnrt said smilingly. “I am not a 
good man, and to add to that I have no sonl, there¬ 
fore, love forms no part of my life.’’ 

You are a strange personage, indeed,” Ayesha 
remarked. ‘^But pray tell me wherein you lack a 
soul, and how you fall short of goodness.” 

^^Let us rather talk about yourself,” Burt sug¬ 
gested. 

‘ ‘ Then our talk will be a rather brief one, ’ ’ she 
replied. never really felt that I formed any 
part of this big world until I first met you, and 
then of a sudden I realized for the first time in my 

life that-” Ayesha suddenly halted. ‘‘But,” 

she continued, “that would not interest you.” 

“Why don’t you be frank with me, Ayesha, and 
speak right out?” Burt queried, as he elevated his 
head, so that it rested upon her bosom. 

She felt his warm breath finding its way to her 
neck, felt his hand stealing into her hair. 

‘ ‘ If you do not love, then why do you act as you 
do?” she asked. “And why do you endeavor to 
prompt a soul that is yearning for love?” 

Burt arose. 

“It is too late to-night to answer your ques¬ 
tion,” he replied; “but if you will study me 
closely, you will find out all of my motives, all my 
desires, and all my longings. Let it suffice you to 
know that a night like this, with a girl like you, in 
a place like this, is enough to create the sensations 
bom of love.” 

Burt and Ayesha entered the tent. Abdul 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


175 


Ahmed was still awake and sat reading beside a 
flickering candle. 

“Well,’^ said Ahmed, guess this will be our 
last night in the desert. ’ ^ 

‘‘Perhaps I shall never see the Sahara again, 
Burt said, “but I shall carry with me the balance 
of my life fond recollections of my journey. I 
have learnt a great deal here, and regret that it is 
not the beginning rather than the end of the jour¬ 
ney. ^ ’ 

“No doubt your duties demand that you return 
to your native land, Mr. Burt,^’ said Abdul 
Ahmed, to whom Burt had never disclosed the fact 
that he was a physician. 

“I have no native land and no especial duties, 
Burt retorted. “The world is my country, so I 
happen to be at home wherever I chance to roam. 
But I am contemplating going back to Algiers, 
where I may further any plans that I care to make 
for the future.^’ 

‘ ‘ I shall regret the moment we must separate, ^ ^ 
continued Abdul Ahmed, “for I have become quite 
accustomed to you.^^ 

“Is it not strange. Father,^^ interposed Ayesha, 
“that certain things come into our lives so sud¬ 
denly, and then leave like fleeting shadows ? ^ ’ 

“My child,replied the Arab, “all life is a suc¬ 
cession of events. What may seem strange to us 
is really not strange at all. What is intended 
should be will be, whether good or bad, and what 
Allah decrees shall not be will never be. By the 


176 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


singularity of certain things, as they appear, we 
append a strangeness. Our inability to solve cer¬ 
tain problems; our failure to satisfy our curiosi¬ 
ties and reduce all situations to a state pleasing to 
ourselves, causes us to depict things as strange, 
when as a matter of fact there is nothing strange, 
hut only not understandable. Yet, tell me, Ayesha, 
what prompts your query 

was only thinking how Mr. Burt and our¬ 
selves met. How pleasant the time has been since 
we have all been together, and now how our rela¬ 
tions are to cease. I wish that he could remain 
with us for all time.’’ 

Ayesha hung her head; and Abdul Ahmed real¬ 
ized for the first time that his daughter was in 
love and also realized that it could avail her noth¬ 
ing. 

Burt was not a Mahommedan. 


CHAPTER XXI 


Speing had arrived again at Algiers, and so had 
Jim Bnrt. Seated at breakfast in the dining room 
of his hotel, reading an American newspaper 
(something that yon find most everywhere), he 
was surprised to hear an aged gentleman who sat 
opposite to him at the table, speak in really good 
English. Burt looked up only to learn that he was 
the person being addressed. 

merely wished to speak a word to yon, 
stranger, ’ ’ said the aged gentleman. ‘ ‘ I have had 
no opportunity for the past eight months to speak 
English to anyone, and seeing that yon were an 
American, I thought that I would venture a stray 
remark. ^ ’ 

“That is all right,” Burt assured him, “and I 
am equally as glad as you are to have such an 
opportunity. I have just gotten back from a 
journey through the desert, and but for the French 
that my companions spoke, I have not had a 
chance to speak any language. You know, they 
speak Arabic where I have been, and since I can¬ 
not speak Arabic, the next best thing that came 
my way was French. The girl that was in our 
party spoke English after a fashion, and that let 
it out. ’ ’ 


177 


178 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


Burt and the other American, who introduced 
himself as Mr. Volk, thereupon entered into quite 
a prolonged discussion. 

^^Yes, I hail from New York City,’^ said the 
latter, ‘‘and I will be mighty glad to get back 
there. My ship leaves day after to-morrow. I 
am going down to the pier now to have my bag¬ 
gage checked, as I do not like to wait until the last 
moment for this detail. Will you join me in a 
walkP’ 

‘ ‘ Sure! ’ ’ Burt exclaimed, ‘ ‘ I have nothing to do 
this morning, anyhow, and a little walk wonT hurt 
me.’’ 

Volk offered Burt a cigar, which the latter de¬ 
clined. 

“No, thank you,” said Burt, “just a puff or two 
on a cigarette will do me.” And lighting a yel¬ 
lowish-looking cigarette, one of the last that he 
had purchased in Biskra, he and Volk started on 
their way. 

“I think that I will rest content with letting this 
remain my last trip abroad,” said Volk. “'When 
a man gets to be seventy-two years of age it’s 
almost time for him to quit, don’t you think so, 
Mr. Burt I” Burt smiled, as the sound of “Mr.” 
rang in his ear. 

“Not always, Mr. Volk,” he replied, “not 
always. Some men are very active at your age, 
and since you look pretty well preserved, your 
quitting time may be somewhat delayed. ’ ’ 

“You are only spoofing me, young man,” came 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


179 


the reply. ^ Hf I were as young as you are, or as 
young as my wife, then I would feel different 
about matters; but just now I feel as though I am 
well-nigh at the end of most everything.’^ 

“You have children, I presume,” Burt said as 
they walked on. 

“Yes,” said the old man, “I have a little son 
that will be ten years old next month. ’ ’ 

“He is at home with his mother, no doubt,” 
Burt remarked. 

The old man hung his head for a moment and 
then standing erect replied : 

“The youngster’s mother is dead. You see, I 
married a second time, and though I should never 
have done that, it simply could not be helped. It 
happened this way: Seven years ago I returned 
to America from a two-years’ trip to Wurtem- 
burg, where my parents lived. While there my 
wife took ill, died, and was buried there. My 
youngster was then only three years old. Event¬ 
ually we sailed for home, and on that ship was a 
young woman who displayed a great deal of in¬ 
terest in my boy, and my boy in turn grew very 
fond of her. She was twenty-seven years old, an 
orphan, on her way to the United States in quest 
of a position as governess. She told me that she 
had very little money, but hoped to earn enough in 
America to pay her way through life, as she had 
no one to look out for but herself. I took a fancy 
to her after we had been out to sea a few days, 
and seeing the way she treated my youngster 


180 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


made me feel all the kindlier toward her. Sitting 
alone one night on the deck of my steamer, I was 
surprised to hear my little hoy say, ‘Daddy, let’s 
take Pauline home with us; I want her for my 
mamma. ’ That struck me as being very funny at 
first; but after a while I began to give the remark 
serious consideration, with the result that when 
our ship reached New York, Pauline became my 
wife. We have been very happy together, but I 
cannot help considering the whole affair a griev¬ 
ous error. I was sixty-five years old then, and had 
no business wrecking the life of a young girl by 
marrying her; and I have felt sorry for her ever 
since. ’ ’ 

Burt made no comment whatever, except to re¬ 
mark tritely that that which is done cannot be 
undone. On their way back to the hotel Volk 
resumed his conversation with Burt. 

“I want you to meet my wife this afternoon, 
Mr. Burt,” he said, “and I am sure that you will 
agree with me when I say that she is one of the 
most delightful as well as one of the most charm¬ 
ing women in the world. ’ ’ 

That afternoon while Burt was lounging about 
the hotel. Yolk approached him and invited him to 
his room. As they entered Yolk cautioned Burt to 
say nothing of their conversation of the morning. 

“Be pleased to meet my wife,” he said. 

“It gives me great pleasure to know you, 
madame,” Burt assured her as he grasped her 
hand. 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


181 


One glance at the woman confirmed her hus¬ 
band statement. She was delightful, charming, 
and more than that. 

you do not mind, dearest,’’ said Volk to his 
wife, have an appointment that I would like to 
keep, and if you will promise me not to he angry, 
I will return in an hour or so. You will find Mr. 
Burt a pretty good conversationalist, and he can 
tell you very many interesting stories of travel, 
having just returned from the desert.” 

After expressing her regret for his having to 
leave, she consented to his going. For some 
reason or other Burt believed her to be lying. It 
all looked like a frame-up, and it appeared to him 
that she was more than anxious to have Yolk go. 
What followed confirmed his belief. 

‘^So you have been in the desert!” she began. 
^^And, just to think of it, I have been in a desert 
for seven long years.” 

Burt was somewhat dumbfounded at this re¬ 
mark. 

‘^Yes,” she continued, ‘Muring that period 
everything in my life has been so barren. Can you 
not see how unhappy I am! Why, that man is 
older than my grandfather, and just as frigid as 
the North Pole.” 

“But why tell this to me on such short acquaint¬ 
ance,—to me, a perfect stranger to both of you!” 
Burt asked. “Because I have not had a chance 
since I left New York to tell it to anyone else. 


182 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


that is why,” she replied. ''You are so young, 
so ” 

Here she paused. Burt looked at her in sheer 
amazement. Opportunity was again presenting 
itself to the Prince of Passion. Why not accept 
the things that opportunity brings into our lives, 
without asking any questions or inquiring into 
the fact of their coming? Accept them as they 
come, for if you donT, someone else will. That 
had always been BurFs motto. He drew his chair 
closer to hers. 

"Tell me, madame,” he asked, "what can I do 
to mitigate things?” 

She arose and walking over to Burt she un¬ 
hesitatingly and without even so much as a blush, 
sat down upon his lap. 

'' I want the right that every young woman has; 
the right to the love of youth. He stole this right 
away from me and enslaved me to age. I hate 
and detest him for that. ^ ^ 

Burt had just appended the last of a long series 
of kisses on the lady’s lips when a knock at the 
door brought him to realize that the lady’s hus¬ 
band had returned. She bade him enter, while 
both she and Burt were to themselves thanking 
their lucky stars that he had not entered without 
being bid. 

After a few minutes’ conversation Burt took 
leave of his newly-made acquaintances, assuring 
them that he would call to see them again before 
they left Algiers. 


CHAPTER XXII 


Aftee leaving Voikos room Burt was somewhat 
in a quandary. He had an appointment for that 
very evening with Abdul Ahmed and Ayesha and 
really did not know what to do,—^keep it or not. 
Abdul had been a worthy friend, and Ayesha (yes, 
Ayesha!—^with her little stories based on random 
passages from the Koran) had inspired him to 
nobler and greater thoughts. He could not de¬ 
ceive Ayesha. 

Man is obliged to bow down and pay homage to 
goodness, no matter where it is found, and Jim 
Burt was, after all is said and done, a man who 
recognized goodness when he found it. He de¬ 
termined to keep that appointment. 

‘‘Es Salamu Alikem,'' he said, as he stopped 
in front of the Arab's door that evening. 

‘‘And peace be likewise with thee, my friend," 
replied Abdul Ahmed, as he greeted Burt with 
a smile. 

“How fares it with Ayesha and yourself T' in¬ 
terrogated Burt. “She is still talking about the 
great Sahara, and is longing for the day when 
she can again return to its sands," the Arab re¬ 
plied. 

At this point in their conversation Ayesha ap- 
183 


184 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


peared and after a general greeting the three 
entered the house. 

had a strange dream last night,’’ Ayesha 
commenced. ^‘To think of it causes me delight, 
and then ...” Here she paused for a moment, 
then continued,—“ and then I grow so weary and 
alarmed. One part of my dream is so beautiful, 
so realistic, and the other so fearful.” 

< < Forget the part that wearies and alarms you, ’ ’ 
Burt interjected suggestingly. 

^‘That is not an easy thing to do,” she replied, 
^^but shall I tell you my dream P’ she as quickly 
asked. 

‘ ‘ To be sure. I am all attention, ’ ’ Burt assured 
her. 

In a tragic tone of voice she said: 

^^Last night I dreamt that you and I were all 
alone in the desert. Again we sat outside of our 
tent, and I again repeated those little Arabian 
tales you always seemed to enjoy. The moon 
again, in all its fullness, lit up your face, reflected 
your happiness. Again the soft, warm sands of 
the mighty Sahara served you as a couch, your 
head nestling on the pillow formed by my lap; and 
again I heard you say, ‘Ayesha, tell me tales of 
Araby once more before we part’; and then I 
heard you say again, ‘Allah is good, and that one 
of his most beautiful creations was Ayesha’s 
voice; her hair; her eyes ’; and then I saw a moun¬ 
tain of sand arise; you beheld its coming first with 
awe and then with pleasure, and then I heard 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


185 


you say again, H may become a son of the desert, 
and then,—0 my friend!—then, just as I was 
praying in my dream that you would, I saw the 
face of a beautiful woman. I heard her imploring 
you to return to her, and you did! you did! you 
did!^’ 

Ayesha half swooned as she completed the nar¬ 
ration of her dream, and perhaps would have 
fallen, had not Burt taken her by the arm. 

Burt at once understood what portion of her 
dream caused Ayesha to fear. 

‘‘But why should you worry about a dreamP’ 
he asked after Ayesha had somewhat regained her 
composure. 

“Because,she answered, “because I have an 
intuitive feeling that we are going to part to-night 
forever; that you will soon leave Algiers, and that 
I will never see you again. The thought drives 
me almost to distraction, for I have, have . . 
Here she suddenly halted; she could say no more. 

“It is only too true,'' Burt commenced, “that 
I must shortly leave Algiers, but it may not be 
forever. You should not, must not, fret or worry 
about me. We have been friends, and good 
friends at that, and I can see no reason why we 
should not remain so. I am obliged to get back 
to my work. Like all men, I have a duty to per¬ 
form in the world. I regret that I have to leave 
you, for you have taught me many things. I re¬ 
spect and admire you. Your purity excels every¬ 
thing that I have known; you are the embodiment 


186 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


of goodness, and if yonr faith in Allah has made 
you the noble creature that you are, all the world 
owes praise and allegiance to Allah.’’ 

That night Burt bade Ayesha and her father 
good-by. The three parted with tears in their 
eyes. 

shall write to you as soon as I arrive in 
Paris,” was Burt’s final farewell. 

Depressed in spirit and downcast in thought, he 
returned to his hoteL 

The next morning at breakfast Burt was sur¬ 
prised to find that Mrs. Volk and he were the only 
guests at the dining table. It was commencing to 
get very warm, and nearly all the tourists had 
departed for home or other points, with the result 
that the Royale was practically abandoned. 

‘‘Where is your worthy mate this morning?” 
Burt asked as he seated himself beside her at the 
table. 

“He is celebrating the last lap of his stay in 
Algiers, and is trying to wear off an over-dose of 
cognac that he gulped down on purpose last night. 
I tell you, the old boy surely saturated himself 
last night, and if he does not brace up pretty soon 
I will have to have him towed aboard ship to¬ 
morrow. ’ ’ 

“That’s right!” ejaculated Burt, “you leave 
lo-morrow. Gosh! You are lucky. My ship does 
not leave until day after to-morrow, and now, 
since I have decided to get out of here, I can’t 
get out quick enough. That is one of the pecul- 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


187 


iarities of us Americans: when we start to travel 
we simply keep on going, and we don’t seem to 
care how far we go, hut when quitting-time comes, 
and we realize that we are going home again, we 
just can’t get there quick enough, and that is how 
I feel myself.” 

‘ ‘ I would not wait until day after to-morrow if 
I were you,” said Mrs. Volk. ‘‘Come along with 
us as far as Southampton.” 

“I cannot do that,” Burt replied; “and even if 
I cared to, I doubt very much whether I could get 
passage at this late hour.” 

“If I can manage that end of it,” she inter¬ 
posed, “do you promise to go with us? You know 
it is so terribly lonely aboard ship the first day 
or so, until you get acquainted with your fellow 
passengers; and now, since we are known to each 
other, things will be so different.” 

“It really does not make a great deal of differ¬ 
ence to me,” Burt said, “just so I get to Paris 
eventually; yet, it seems sort of rash and foolish 
to waste a perfectly good ticket.” 

“Don’t let that worry you,” she said assur- 
ingly, “for the old man has .lots of money, and 
a few dollars more or less wont make or break 
him. ’ ’ 

Breakfast over, Burt agreed to meet Mrs. Volk 
at dinner. In the meantime he lounged about the 
lobby of the hotel. It seemed as though all of a 
sudden the minutes had been converted into hours, 
and the time began to hang heavy upon his shoul- 


188 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


ders. He sank back into a large porch rocker and 
while scanning the columns of a French news¬ 
paper at random, his eye became riveted to the 
following news item: 


Mademoiselle Jeannette Arnault, of the City of Paris, who but 
recently returned to her native city from the United States, has 
accepted an appointment as the head of the staff of nurses at 
the Hopital des Invalides and will enter upon her new duties 
on the first of June. 

Burt looked at the heading of the paper. It 
bore date of May third. 

''Jeannette Arnault in Paris!’’‘Burt exclaimed 
aloud, and then entered into a state of deep con¬ 
templation, which absorbed him to such an extent 
that he failed to see Mrs. Volk as she passed him. 
Burt a little later, posted the following letter: 


Mademoiselle Jeannette Arnault, 

Hopital des Invalides, 

Paris, France. 

It gives me a great deal of pleasure to read of your recent 
appointment, which I am confident is the reward of merit. You 
are to be congratulated upon your success. 

JAMES BUET, M.D., 
Biskra. 


After penning and posting these few lines, Burt 
entered the dining-room. Several guests were 
seated at the tables, including Mrs. Volk, whose 
husband was conspicuous for his absence. Burt 
took a seat beside her. 


THE PEINCE OE PASSION 


189 


“Has your worthy spouse come back to earth 
as yetr^ Burt asked. 

“He did come back in part/^ she answered, 
“but I administered a new supply which sent him 
back to slumberland. ’ ^ 

“What was your object in doing such a rash 
act?’^ Burt further queried. 

“Well, I could not get passage for you on our 
ship, and I determined that I was going to spend 
whatever little time I had left me in my own way 
with you. ’ ^ 

“You are very considerate,^^ Burt replied, “but, 
really, I am very glad that you did not succeed, 
for since speaking with you last I have formulated 
other plans. I shall not sail at all. Down at 
Biskra it is starting to become very, very hot. 
The city is in dire need of a druggist and physi¬ 
cian, and I have determined to send in a large 
order for drugs to London to-night and after that 
return to Biskra and care for the needs of the 
sick. I am a physician, and as such feel it my duty 
to be where I can render some service. I have 
learned to love the Arabs. I esteem their friend¬ 
ship, I admire their faith, and I am going to cast 
my lot with them for the summer. ^ ’ 

“Spoken like a man!’^ she exclaimed, and then 
said: “Just so I have you to-night, why, the 
Arabs can have you as long as you wish them to.’’ 

That night came and likewise passed; but Mrs. 
Volk never laid eyes again on Jim Burt. While 
she sought him out most everywhere, he was at 


190 


THE PRINCE OP PASSION 


Ayesha’s home, writing out a long list of drugs 
and other items. He had made another resolution 
and was going to keep it. Even the last word 
of his letter to Jeannette Arnault bore the name 
of Biskra. 


CHAPTEE XXm 


After completing his list, Burt made known his 
purpose to Ayesha and her father. Abdul Ahm ed 
arose, and patting Burt on the sho’ulder, com¬ 
plimented him on his proposed action. Abdul 
knew how to speak French, and he brought it into 
use in praising Burt. 

“You did not tell us that you were a physician,” 
Abdul informed him. 

“I have not told you everything that I am,” 
Burt replied laughingly: “and perhaps if I did, 
you would never care to speak to me again. ’ ’ 

“I write the faults of my friends upon desert 
sands,” Abdul Ahmed replied, “so that when the 
mighty winds arise they are swept away; and I 
engrave the good upon my heart, so that it may 
never be forgotten.” 

A protracted conversation followed, from which 
Burt arose with a look of contentment and happi¬ 
ness written all over his face. It had been de¬ 
termined that Abdul, Ayesha and himself all re¬ 
turn to Biskra, where Burt would practice med¬ 
icine. Ayesha would serve him in the capacity of 
nurse, while Abdul, who had plenty of this world ^s 
goods, could spend his time in ease. 

At the end of June the three of them were 
191 


192 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


firmly established at Biskra. Burt’s supplies had 
reached him, and a shingle on the door of his 
abode announced in Arabic and French just what 
he was doing. Day after day his task grew larger 
and larger. Arabs came to him at all hours of 
the day and night. The name of Burt became a 
household word, and patients even came from 
neighboring desert towns to seek his help; and 
none were refused. The rich paid, and the poor 
did not, but all received the same treatment, and 
throughout his trials Ayesha was at his side, 
watching and waiting, loving in silence and pray¬ 
ing for a return of that love. The miracles 
performed by the Dervishes vanished into in¬ 
significance when she compared them with the 
remarkable things that Burt did. The Arabs were 
learning to almost worship him, more than one 
declaring that Allah himself had sent Burt to 
them for their deliverance from disease and as a 
token of the love He bore followers of the greatest 
of all Prophets. 

By the end of September Jim Burt had become 
a wealthy man. He had instituted numerous re¬ 
forms, and had prepared a systematic course for 
the natives to pursue, and by hearty cooperation 
on the part of the authorities, disease had been 
reduced to a minimum. One would think it a dif¬ 
ficult task to try and teach an Arab how to live, 
but Burt seemed to encounter no difficulty in 
bringing about happy results. The natives had 
faith in him, and abided by what he said. Homes 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


193 


became more sanitary, meals more regular, and 
the smoking of cigarettes was cut down consider¬ 
ably. Burt^s work became known everywhere, 
and even the large newspapers of Europe were 
publishing long articles concerning him, and while 
all this was going on, in Paris, the city of mirth 
and regrets, Jeannette Arnault daily ministered 
to the needs of the sick. Through the busy hours 
of nursing, and during her moments of leisure, 
she entertained one great hope,—the hope that 
Jim Burt would still learn to love her, love her as 
she loved him. 

Within the soul of every human being some 
hope is treasured. A hope that remains when 
friends have deserted us, and when everything 
seems to be at its worst. The sweetest rosebud 
of May will decay, but that hope will never fade. 
Hope is God^s silent promise to the soul, ever 
awaiting fulfillment, and in the magic moments, 
the weary months, and dreary years that it abides 
with us, it whispers through calm and tempest, 
in a mysterious manner, ‘‘Be patientHope is 
the most radiant star beaming into our lives, and 
happy is that mortal who feels its warmth. Jean¬ 
nette Arnault had read of Burt^s work and his 
sudden rise to fame. She had received his letter, 
and cold though it was, she still had hope. But 
she was not the only one that was hoping. Ay- 
esha, too, had hopes, but what their hopes would 
bring them neither seemed to know. 

It was two 0 ^clock in the morning when a loud 


194 THE PRINCE OF PASSION 

knocking at his door aroused Burt from a heavy 

“Another patient, and at this late hour,” he 
said as he hurriedly dressed himself. , , , 

Ayesha had heard the knocking also and had 
opened the door. 

Burt was surprised to find a group of mounted 
Arabs awaiting without. The Arab who stood 
before him appeared to be out of breath and 
highly nervous. 

“My worthy master is very ill, and a good 
marabout has told him that only you could save 
his life. In the name of Allah; will you not come 
to him at once?” 

“Who is your master?” Burt queried. 

“The good Said of Sidi Okha,” came the reply. 

‘ ‘ Yes! Yes! ” Burt exclaimed, ‘ ‘ I have met him 
before,—a very pious man. Yes, I will come at 
once.” 

“My master has sent this armed guard to ac¬ 
company you so that no peril may come unto you; 
night riding in the desert is very dangerous.” 

Burt’s heart seemed to leap to his mouth. He 
was not afraid of the night, nor even of the Arabs. 
All that he now thought of was the mad ride of 
fourteen miles to Sidi Okha. Bidding Ayesha 
take good care of herself he was off within short 
order. He knew that the Said was an old man; 
that there were thousands who adored him, and 
that to have his life meant added fame for him. 
On and on he dashed through the night. His 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


195 


beautiful Arabian steed seemed to know by in¬ 
stinct its rider ^s mission, as it further outdis¬ 
tanced the skilled horsemen of the guard at each 
mile. 

Sidi Okba was reached at last and as if he had 
known the abode of the venerable Said for years, 
Burt dismounted quickly in front of his very door. 
He had been there before and had not forgotten 
the place. He had led the guard by a good half- 
hour, and was bending over the Said when the 
messenger who had implored his aid entered the 
room. Ayesha also came into the room, all 
dressed in spotless white. She had ridden with 
the messenger the entire way, and did not appear 
the least worn by her long ride. 

‘H thought that you might need me,'’ she said, 
hanging her head as a naughty little school-girl 
might have done, expecting a reprimand for some 
act that she should not have committed. 

‘‘The Said is a very sick man, Ayesha; and I 
have very little hope for his recovery. I am some¬ 
what baffled. I do not know just what ails him, 
but I will try my best to help him," Burt said 
to her in place of the reprimand she felt sure was 
forthcoming. 

The little oasis was all astir with life. Natives 
were uttering prayers everywhere, for next to 
Allah, came the old Said. 

“Will he get welH" Burt was asked by an old 
Arab, as he came to the door with Ayesha an 
hour later. 


196 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


‘Hf Allah wills!'’ Burt exclaimed with a nod 
of his head accompanying his remark. 

^ ‘ Then may it please the will of Allah,'' the old 
man said sobbingly, as he departed. 

Burt had administered to the unconscious Said, 
and was waiting for results. He had come out 
into the open with Ayesha for a rest. As she sat 
beside him on a bench in front of the Said's house, 
she said: 

‘‘My dream. Dr. Burt, has come true. We are 
again alone in the desert. Again the moon in all 
of its fullness shines upon your face. Again,— 
yes, again,—we are in the midst of that silence 
known only in the desert." 

She could go on no further. She felt as though 
she were choking. A slight touch on the shoulder 
brought her back to herself. 

“Do not be calling me ‘Mister' and ‘Doctor’ 
alternatively," Burt advised her. “When we are 
alone call me ‘Jim.’ And now, since we cannot 
do otherwise than remain up for an hour or so, 
tell me one of your little Arabian tales.'' 

With this last request he placed his arm about 
her neck and was about to kiss her, when he sud¬ 
denly remembered that he had promised himself 
to exempt her from his vow. Ayesha had noticed 
everything and wondered why he did not carry 
his impulse into execution. She knew that he was 
not a coward; knew that he was not timid, and 
she regretted his sudden turn of mind. 

“Your voice, your hair, your eyes, Ayesha, al- 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


197 


most stole my heart away for the moment,’’ he 
said with an apologetic air; ‘^and I want yon to 
forgive me.” 

^‘I will forgive yon, Jim, if yon will only do 
what yon wanted to do, ’ ’ she replied. 

A few moments later Bnrt had been forgiven 
for what he had given. 

A httle later Bnrt and Ayesha entered the 
honse. Bnrt went straightway to the divan on 
which the Said was lying. The old Arab was 
speaking incoherently. 

‘‘Bring me some water,” Bnrt reqnested in a 
commanding manner to a servant in attendance. 

The water having arrived, Bnrt hastily filled a 
small vial with it and then added, drop by drop, 
a medicine that he had taken from his kit. The 
old Arab seemed to rebel at the taste of it, bnt 
Bnrt managed to make him swallow it. An honr 
later the Said was speaking to Bnrt. 

“So yon have arrived, my son,” he said, as he 
patted Bnrt on the head in a fatherly way. ‘ ‘ May 
Allah bless yon!” 

The next day the Said showed every sign of re¬ 
covery and at the end of a week he was as well 
as ever. 

“Jnst a case of poisoning, perhaps from a 
poison fig or date,” was Bnrt’s cnrt reply to the 
inqniry concerning the Said’s illness. 

Several days later Bnrt and Ayesha were back 
in Biskra. Bnrt was snrprised on his retnm to 
find a heavy mail awaiting him. A hnge envelope 


198 THE PEINCE OF PASSION 

at once attracted his attention. It was post¬ 
marked Paris, and he opened it hastily, almost 
nervously. It was from the Hopital des Invalides, 
and he read it aloud. It ran as follows: 


Dr. James Burt, Biskra: . 

Your work has come to the attention of this institution, inis 
coupled with the information we have of Dr. Sauerman, of Vienna, 
impels us to communicate with you. Will you accept a call to 
our very worthy hospital? 


Burt thought for a moment. 

^ ‘ I will, ’ ’ he muttered, ‘ ^ yes,—^I will not, ^ ’ And 
he threw the letter aside. 

Another letter was from Jeannette Arnault, 
who wrote: 

I am well and thankful to Heaven that my wishes are coming 
true. Bon courage, mon ami. 


Burt also threw this letter aside, hut a little 
while later he reentered the room and looked for 
it. It was gone. Ayesha had found it, and had 
run to her room, sobbing. 

''After all,'' Ayesha said as Burt entered her 
room that night, "I don't think I ought to hold 
you back. I guess you are longing for your lily- 
white friend in Paris, Dr. Burt; and you need 
not consider me at all in the matter." 

Burt appeared to swell with a violent rage. 

"Had you been attending to your own busi¬ 
ness," he shouted angrily, "you would have con¬ 
tinued to be happy. It is only when we begin 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


199 


to meddle in things that do not concern ns that 
real worry and trouble seizes hold of ns. Yon 
have been prying and meddling too much, Ay- 
esha.'' He left the room in a fnry. 

The next morning Bnrt realized that he had 
been too impetnons, too harsh, and straightway 
he went to Ayesha^s room to make amends. She 
was not there. Bnrt espied one of her handker¬ 
chiefs lying on the table, and beside it a letter. 
He picked the latter np and read it, after which 
a lone tear came to his eye as these words passed 
under his gaze: 


You will never know what you meant to me and ^ 

loved and admired you. I leave you now on account of that love. 
I have not been accustomed to harshness and brutality, rare 
well, and may Allah bless you and keep you as happy as you 
have made me miserable. 


This was what Ayesha had written, and to Burt 
it conveyed an idea of how selfish he had been. 

Jnst as Burt reached the railroad station that 
morning the train left that carried Ayesha and 
her father hack to Algiers. That night Burt sent 
the following letter to the Hopital des Invalides. 


I accept your 


offer. Will be in Paris in the near future. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


Bad Elstee nestles snngly at the foot of the 
Vogtland Mountains of old Saxony, just this side 
of the boundary line of the new Bohemia. It is 
the bath de-luxe of Germany, and visitors from 
all parts of the earth assemble there yearly for 
the baths. Its waters are reputed to be highly 
efficient, and possess many curative properties. 
In conjunction with the baths, visitors are obliged 
to drink certain mineral waters, which are dis¬ 
pensed at various artistic wells by beautiful moun¬ 
tain maidens. One of these wells is called the 
radium well, at which four beautiful,—^ultra-beau¬ 
tiful maidens,—are continually handing out two- 
hundred-gram glasses of radium water. It would, 
indeed, be a very difficult task to decide which 
one of these four water-dispensers is the pretti¬ 
est; however, one of them, generally known as 
Ella, enjoys this proud distinction. 

Just as a mountain bear enters uninvited into 
the kitchen of some humble village peasants, with 
no ill-will whatsoever toward anyone, but possess¬ 
ing an insatiable longing for food, so Jim Burt 
entered Bad Elster one July morning, with noth¬ 
ing to do but while the time away. He was des- 
200 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


201 


lined for no place in particular, other than Paris, 
but having heard of the beautiful country there¬ 
abouts, he determined to break his trip for a little 
rest. 

Well, you cannot be very long at a place like 
Bad Elster before you know everybody in the 
place and everything that is to be known about 
the place. This is one of the advantages of going 
to a small town. Bad Elster, in addition to hav¬ 
ing a beautiful public bath-house, also boasts of 
an exquisite colonnade. This latter structure con¬ 
tains many stores, open only in the summer-time 
for the purpose of permitting strangers to get rid 
of some of their surplus change for souvenirs. 

The best place in the world for an American to 
be on the fourth of July is in the good old 
U. S. A., and if he is not there then, it’s a mighty 
hard guess as to where he is. Jim Burt, however, 
on this particular date chanced to be at Bad 
Elster, and, furthermore, chanced to be at the 
colonnade, where is the particular well at which 
the afore-mentioned particularly beautiful moun¬ 
tain maidens labor daily for a penurious wage. 
It did not require much of his time to come to 
the same conclusion that had been reached by so 
many others,—that Ella was undoubtedly the most 
beautiful of the four. Her beauty mystified him, 
almost entranced him, and while his system re¬ 
quired no radium water, he determined to drink 
a glass, even if it gagged him; and forthwith he 
approached the well. 


202 THE PEINCE OF PASSION 

Ella had her hand on the faucet. Burt snuled 
as he asked her if she would be kind enough o 
lend him a glass. Visitors generally buy their 
own glasses, hut Burt had to have some excuse 
for getting into a conversation with Ella, in ex¬ 
cellent German, she responded in the affirmative, 
and a moment later Burt was sampling radium 

^‘Did your doctor advise you to drink this 

waterr’ she queried. x ^ 

'‘Not exactly,’' Burt responded. He told me 
to drink plenty of water, and ! don’t guess it 
makes much difference what kind of water 1 
drink. Water is water.” 

"This water is chiefly for disorders of the kid¬ 
neys and stomach,” she informed him, and then 
asked whether he suffered from either of these 
troubles. 

" Not to my knowledge, ’ ’ he informed her. My 
chief ailment is a sort of heart affection, hut I 
am afraid that you are too young yet to have ex¬ 
perienced this malady.” 

The conversation drifted from one thing to an¬ 
other, as conversations usually do, and closing 
time soon arrived, whereupon Ella began making 
preparations for leaving. Ella lived with an aged 
mother and crippled sister far up in the moun¬ 
tains, and it took her more than an hour every 
evening to get to her home. Quite a task after 
a hard day’s work!—^but Ella did not seem to 
mind it, especially on this particular evening, for 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


203 


Burt, by some chance or other, succeeded in ac¬ 
companying her home. 

In the ordinary sense of the word one would 
not call it a home, but technically it was, and Ella 
lived there, laughed there, and had her heart 
there. That made it a very acceptable home. 
After all, the tiniest hut is equal to the most pala¬ 
tial edifice, when filled with life and love. Ella 
lived and loved: lived for her aged mother and 
crippled sister, and loved them both, and only 
them. It was a somewhat meager-looking shack, 
comparing very unfavorably with many a barn. 
It had been whitewashed years before, but 
winter^s wind and summer’s rain had torn the 
last vestige of coating away. . 

Burt entered after Ella into one of the tidiest 
and coziest rooms he had ever seen. Order pre¬ 
vailed everywhere. No one would ever 
from without what comfort lay within, and Ella 
was responsible for this delightful condition. The 
aged mother was prevented by infirmity from do¬ 
ing any manner of work, and poor little Ella, alter 
a hard day’s work and a long journey homewards, 
was obliged to put things in order, and even cook 
her own meals. The head of the family had died 
a few months before, and the only son, Ella s 
brother, fell upon the battlefields of France 

“You are a remarkable little woman, Burt 
said, after he had partaken of a light supper,— 
light because what was served was all these poor 
folks had, all that they could have. 


204 THE PRINCE OF PASSION 

Ella was not susceptible of being flattered, and 
Burt's remark passed by unanswered. Later on 
that evening Ella and Burt returned to Bad 
Elster, where they attended a play at the Kur 
Theatre. The play had a very pretty love story 
as its theme. What successful play lacks such 
a theme! All of the comedies and the tragedies 
of life are predicated on love. 

On their way home from the performance, Burt 
took occasion to comment upon the play. 

“The only happy termination in love," he said, 
“seems to be either on the stage or upon the 
screen. In real life it seldom, if ever, happens 
that way." 

“Why, man! the whole world is full of love, real 
love," she exclaimed enthusiastically, and then 
asked: “Have you ever gone in quest of it!" 

Burt chuckled as he said; 

“It is a colossal task, and an attempt to sur¬ 
mount the insurmountable. To find it is as dif¬ 
ficult as trying to reach Mars with a Zeppelin. 
Once upon a time I thought that I had solved the 
problem, but soon learned that I was chasing one 
of the rainbow's illusive rays." 

“Why don't you keep on trying!" she asked. 

Burt furtively replied: 

“When once we have been the victim of decep¬ 
tion, we fear to venture again. After a man has 
once placed a woman upon a pedestal, and sees 
her fall therefrom, he loses faith. Perhaps if I 
had met a maid like you, and wandered to some 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


205 


land unknown, where we and only we could be 
alone, each for the other a world, my happiness 
would have been complete. Such a fair land I 
have but recently left behind. In the dark shadow 
of the giant mountains and towering cliffs that 
skirt the beautiful Sahara, I could have found a 
peaceful refuge, and while the weary world went 
struggling along with its deceptions and its false 
conventions, with you by my side, there among 
the oleanders, palms, and fig trees. Paradise 
would abound. There amongst the burning red 
and orange rocks; there where the boundless wil¬ 
derness of sand stretches far away to the horizon, 
with but sun and sky above, hand in hand with 
one like you, through life I would care to journey 
on. The world is cold, brazen, bitter, and the 
search for such a love as fits my nature is vain. 
Love, as I now behold it, is a palace built in the 
clouds; it's a lucid ray of the rainbow that shines 
but for a moment, and then breaks and fades 
away.'' 

Ella was so intent on listening to Burt that she 
did not notice the fact that he had finished speak¬ 
ing for several minutes. A little sigh escaped 
unnoticed, after which she pressed Burt firmly 
on the arm and said: 

‘‘You would certainly make a wonderful land¬ 
scape artist. You almost made me believe that 
I was far away with you; a princess in some beau¬ 
tiful realm, and you a prince." 


206 THE PRINCE OF PASSION 

Burt recoiled a bit at the last word, then, re¬ 
gaining his composure, said: 

“I am a prince.” 

“I did not think that there was any such a 
thing in America,” she replied naively. 

“Plenty,—of my kind,” he assured her. 

Ella and Burt finally reached her home. He 

halted at the door. . , , ^ , ii, „i, 

“Ella,” he said to her a little later, though 

honor tells me what to do, let me kiss you? 

‘ ‘ You should not have asked me, ” she replied. 
“Perhaps not; but you have flooded my heart 
with real joy, and love’s passion blooms in spite 
' of cold. I know not what to do or say, raly that 
I would kiss you. It cannot hurt you, Ella; for 

God’s sake don’t say no!” . 

Burt did not wait for an answer, but, seizing 
Ella in his arm, he lavished kiss after kiss upon 
her beautiful mouth, cheeks, and forehead, while 
he held her in a tight embrace, and from its skep 
in Ella’s girlish heart leapt forth the flame, let, 
Burt, despite the prince that he was, would never 
suffer that flame to sear her. , , , ^ ,, 

After bidding her good-night, he dashed madly 
down the mountain road to Elster, and Ella never 
laid eyes upon him again. 


CHAPTEE XXV 


Ik the city of Paris there is a well-known cafe, 
called the Cafe de la Paix. On the Boulevard 
Montmartre, at the point where this cafe is sit¬ 
uated, is the world’s axis,—or what is presumed 
by many people to be the center of the world. 
It is there that pleasure reaches its height, and 
where all the little play-toys of passion, men and 
women, denizens of licentiousness, abound in vast 
numbers. 

It was Sunday morning in Paris, but life seemed 
to be in full bloom everywhere, especially at the 
Cafe de la Paix. Outside in the little gardenlike 
aperture, immediately in front of the cafe, sat 
Jim Burt. The chimes of churches were summon¬ 
ing to divine worship the devout ones of the city. 
Only an hour before Burt had alighted from his 
train at the Gare du Nord, and instead of going 
direct to the hospital, he had seen fit to register 
at a second-rate hotel in the rue Villedo, later 
sauntering forth to the Boulevard Montmartre. 

In her room at the hospital Jeannette Arnault 
sat meditating. 

''To think of it!” she said aloud, "in just a 
little while Jim Burt, the Prince of Passion, will 
assume his duties here.” She recoiled at her ut- 
207 


208 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


teranee. “After all, are not most men more or 
less slaves of desire?” she asked herself. “Burt 
is only a man. He is a great man, and perhaps 
has reformed in his habits.” 

With these remarks Jeannette endeavored to 
console herself. She only knew that she loved 
Burt, and with every thought of him she endeav¬ 
ored to dispel the clouds of doubt that arose in 
her mind,—doubts that were soon to he confirmed. 

After two weeks had elapsed and Burt had not 
reported, Jeannette Arnault began to despair. 

“He must have changed his mind,” said the 
Superintendent one evening, as he encountered 
Jeannette in one of the wards. 

“Something surely must have happened,” she 
replied, “and I fear for the worst.” 

It may not he psychic, hut somehow or other, 
as it has been shown time and again, there is a 
strange communion between souls that are kin¬ 
dred to each other when danger is impending. 

During all this time Jim Burt was going the 
pace that kills. Painted women and colored drinks 
were consuming all his time, and although he had 
sipped from many a bitter ciip, he was now indulg¬ 
ing in the most bitter one of all, but to him it was 
sweet and charming. A chance drink of absinthe 
had brought about the desire for more, and he 
drank, drank, drank, until he could drink no more. 

Near the Boulevard de la Madeleine a large 
crowd had gathered. Something had happened. 
A man was lying prostrate on the ground,—^mo- 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


209 


tionless and apparently dead. No one seemed to 
know who he was nor where he came from, but 
at a glance one could see that he was a for¬ 
eigner. 

The man was no other that Jim Burt. His sins 
were beginning to find him out, as there he lie, 
unconscious and stupefied by excessive drinking. 
An officer had called for an ambulance, and in this 
Burt was placed, and hurried off to the Hopital 
des Invalides. 

‘‘Paris is a little too much for this poor fellow, 
one of the physicians remarked to the nurse in 
attendance that evening; he seems to be fairly 
saturated with drink. 

“I guess he will be all right by morning,’’ she 
replied. 

“I am not so sure of that. Nurse,” said the 
physician. “He has a terrible fever, and on the 
whole, is in a very serious condition.” 

“Wonder who he is,” the nurse ventured. 

“Perhaps we can get this information by going 
through his personal effects,” came the reply. 

Burt’s pockets were examined for something 
that might identify him. A tiny card-case was 
found in a vest pocket, and one of his cards was 
withdrawn thereform. 

“That is surprising, indeed!” remarked the 
physician, as he steadily looked at the card. 
“This man is a doctor himself,” he said, “and 
should have known better.” 

While looking at the hospital register the next 


210 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


morning, Jeannette Arnault almost swooned as 
her eye beheld the name of Burt. 

‘‘What ails himP^ she asked in an excited man¬ 
ner, as she dashed frantically into Burt^s room. 

“He has a delirious fever and seems to be get¬ 
ting worse and worse,’’ replied the nurse in 
charge. 

“What does the physician attribute his ailment 
to?” she hurriedly asked. 

“A condition brought about by excessive drink¬ 
ing of absinthe,” was her curt reply. 

“Poor boy!” exclaimed Jeannette Arnault, as 
a tear found its way to her uye. “I know him 
very well,” she went on; “and while I have ex¬ 
pected to see him here for many days, I never 
dreamt that he would arrive in this manner and 
under such conditions. This is Dr. James Burt, 
of whom the Superintendent has spoken, and who 
was to take charge of the hospital.” 

A few moments later Jeannette Arnault had 
obtained the right personally to attend to Jim 
Burt, and with a heart bent upon success, she 
endeavored to nurse him back to life,—if that 
were possible. 

Burt remained unconscious for five days and 
nights, and little hope was expressed as to the 
possibility of his ever regaining consciousness. 
On the morning of the sixth day, however, a slight 
change took place in his condition, and he asked 
for water. Jeannette Arnault was with him night 
and day, fighting to revive him. Weeping took 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


211 


the place of sleeping, for sleep, like hope, could 
only come again with BnrPs restoration to health. 
He opened his eyes and looked about, but apart 
from asking for water now and then, he said ab¬ 
solutely nothing. He did not recognize Jeannette 
Arnault as she sat beside him on the bed. It was 
ten o’clock in the morning when she was at last 
persuaded to go to her room, and try and get 
some rest. 

By noon Burt had reached the point where be 
began to realize just where he was. With the 
return of a temporary consciousness, came the 
understanding that condemns and tortures,—the 
moments wherein a life is reviewed, and the pages 
from the book of regret are hurriedly turned. 


CHAPTEE XXVI 


Man never fully appreciates the loss of the 
thing most dear to him until he realizes, as a mat¬ 
ter of fact, that it is actually lost. Then he yearns 
to possess it, and loves it more than ever, ^but 
only too late. The tragedy of life is enacted when 
once we have exercised our will in a manner that 
is wrong. The duty of all mortals is to exercise 
a choice of the right. The Infinite One has en¬ 
dowed all of his children with a will; this will is 
a free agency, and believed to be capable of dis¬ 
tinguishing between good and evil, with the power 
to adopt either, but the code of conscience deals 
rather with right and wrong. When all is said 
and done, the paramount factor in bur lives is 
Conscience. 

Jim Burt had done wrong, lived wrong; his 
will-power had been subordinated to carnal weak¬ 
ness ; he had exercised his choice; he had ignored 
the right, had adopted the wrong. ^ 

Lying upon his bed, stricken with a delirious 
fever, in moments of consciousness he bewailed 
the state to which he had fallen. He was suffer¬ 
ing those untold agonies known only to a soul 
that is in conflict with itself. Like Macbeth, he 
saw dreadful specters; saw souls of women that 
212 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 213 

loved him once; souls that he had betrayed. They 
were all true witnesses to his languor. Each ut¬ 
tered a lamentation, a sigh, a regret. Burt peni¬ 
tently stretched out his hand to touch each form, 
as it seemed to pass his bed, although he knew, 
in the midst of all, that they were the figments 
of a disordered mind. He was conscience- 
stricken,—the strongest indictment of man’s 
wrongdoing. 

It was about three o’clock in the afternoon when 
Jeannette Arnault entered the room. She ap¬ 
proached Burt’s bed and felt his brow. She im¬ 
mediately withdrew her hand, with the utterance 
of a sigh that fairly rang with despair. His head 
was ice-cold,—that feeling of coldness which re¬ 
sembles death. But a while ago it seemed as 
though he were on fire. She took hold of one 
of his hands; it, too, was cold. She endeavored 
to awaken him by lightly shaking him at the 
shoulder. He opened his eyes and smiled. She 
saw at once that it was different from the smiles 

she had seen before. , , » 4.1 

“Do you know me, Jim?” she asked fervently. 

“Do you recognize me?” 

He looked at her in bewilderment. 

“Yes! yes!” he exclaimed, “You are, you 
are_” and here he paused. “You are Elsa! 

Elsa!” he cried. . . , a 

“No, you are wrong this time, she assured 
him. “But, come, don’t you really know me?” 
“Why did you leave the convent?” he shouted. 



214 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 


^‘Wli6re is your veil? your vow?^^ After uttering 
the last word he appeared to swoon, but soon 
spoke again. ^‘Vow,^^ he said, kept my vow, 
but no, let me see, you are not Elsa, you are 
I saw you once on the Brocken, yes, yes . . 

He ceased speaking and appeared to be writh¬ 
ing in the severest pain. 

Another nurse entered the room. 

‘'What do you wish?'’ asked Jeannette Arnault. 

“Your sister Mignon has just called to see you, 
and wishes to know whether or not she may come 
in, ’ ’ replied the nurse. 

‘ ‘ Tell her that she may, ’ ’ came the response. A 
little while later, the once little cripple whom Burt 
had cured came walking into the room. She came 
in on tip-toe, not knowing who was there, seeing 
only that some one was sick. 

“Take a seat, dear, for a little while, until I 
minister to the needs of this poor patient,” com¬ 
manded Jeannette, and then turned her attention 
again to Burt. 

Burt appeared almost normal, as he turned in 
his bed and faced Jeannette Arnault. He looked 
at her intently for a few moments and then asked: 

“Is this Saranac?” 

Although the voice was feeble, Mignon had 
heard it. Scarce had he finished asking the ques¬ 
tion when Jeannette Arnault beheld her sister 
dash forward to Burt’s bed, throw both of her 
arms about Burt’s neck, and kiss him repeatedly. 
She was amazed, almost dumbfounded. 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


215 


‘‘What does this all mean, MignonP’ she asked. 
“What is this man to youT^ 

Mignon turned about, faced her elder sister, and 
was just about to reply when she suddenly turned 
again toward Burt, and remained silent. After a 
short while she said: 

“I would love to tell you everything, but I 
promised him never to tell.’^ 

“But you must,’’ replied the elder sister. 

Burt took the hand of the little girl standing at 
his bed-side. 

“Mignon!” he cried aloud, “can you run and 
play like other little girls!” 

“As well as any girl in the world,” Mignon 
replied. 

“Thank your God for that,” he said. 

“And you!” asked the little girl. 

“I understand it all now,” cried Jeannette 
Arnault. “Jim Burt is the man that converted 
my only little sister from a hopeless cripple to a 
healthy, normal girl, and did not want me to know 
anything about it. That man is truly great who 
does a good act without boasting about it or 
heralding it about to the world.” 

Burt listened patiently to all that was said 
without making the slightest utterance. He 
seemed fully conscious of his surroundings. At 
length he said: 

“I feel a trifle stronger now; but that absinthe 
must have poisoned me for good. I really am 


216 THE PEINCE OF PASSION 

surprised, Jeannette, to see you in Paris. What 
are you doing here?” 

“Why, Paris is nay home,—the city oi my 
birth,” she replied, “and I am at present engaged 
in this institution.” 

“And you are not married yet? he asked. 

A sudden pallor came over her face as she an- 

swered: . i i? 

‘^No, you have made that impossible, tor you 
knew_ But do not let us discuss that any 

further. ^ , 

realized only too well what you say, and 
anticipate all that you might say, hut all that I 
have to offer is my saddest regrets. It 1 had 
life to live aU over again, it would he so different, 
so different, hut now, with death lurking about me, 
with all the hopes of youth abandoned, all the 
idols of faith shattered (their fragments being 
but the empty dreams of what was, what might 
have been), all is regret and remorse. I am 
doomed to die my final death, to sleep the sleep 
that never ends. I am now passing through 
the only hell,—a conscience smitten with ter- 
ror.^^ 

Jeannette Arnault knelt beside his bed and took 
his hand in hers. 

‘"Jim,” she asked, ‘'would you accept an op¬ 
portunity to atone for your past, should such an 
opportunity present itself ? Will you permit your¬ 
self to be united to me in the holy bonds of matri¬ 
mony before you dieT^ 


THE PEINCE OF PASSION 217 

Burt became restless, and rolled from side to 
side. 

will do anything that you wish me to do,’’ 
he replied, ‘‘hut think,—for God’s sake, think!— 
and do not make any sacrifices.” 

“You told me once that I was a noble woman,” 
she continued, “and now I want the chance to 
prove that I am. I want you to know that you 
once spoke the truth. It will not be a sacrifice, 
but rather a happy culmination of life’s young 
dream. ’ ’ 

“Go ahead!” was all that Burt said. 

Jeannette Arnault took Mignon to a corner of 
the room. 

“Tell Papa to come here at once and bring a 
priest with him,” she commanded. 

Mignon was off with a dash, and was hardly 
out of the room before Burt began to collapse. 

“Let golden-rods be your bridal flowers instead 
of orange blossoms,” he said, as the fever, with 
renewed energy, seized hold of him. Look! 
look! Marguerite!” he shouted as he jumped upon 
his bed, “Look! the heavens have turned to a 
dome of hammered gold, and listen, do you not 
hear those broken melodies! Behold those ra¬ 
vines, gorges, gullies.” 

“Jim! Jim!” Jeannette cried, “what are you 

talking about!” . 

‘ ‘ The bell! the bell! The Hartz is—is-, and 

oh! those desert sands! Ayesha! Ayesha” he 
shrieked aloud. 


218 


THE PRINCE OF PASSION 


A short silence ensued, broken by the entrance 
of Jeannette ^s father and a venerable-looking 
priest. Both approached the bed of Jim Burt and 
looked at him. 

^‘Mon Die’u!’’ shouted Jeannette’s father, ^Hhe 
man of marvels!” 

‘ ‘ Do you know him ! ’ ’ asked the priest. ‘ ^ Know 
him?” Arnault quickly retorted,—‘^he is the man 
that cured my little Mignon at Vienna. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I presume that you wish me to administer the 
last rites of the church and render my blessings?” 
the aged priest asked. 

''No, no. Father,” Jeannette Arnault replied. 

'' I want you to unite us as husband and wife. He 
has consented.” 

The priest took Burt’s hand in his and asked: 

"My son, do you wish to enter into a state of 
matrimony with the woman at your side?” 

Burt looked up at the priest for the first time 
and appeared to shrink away from him. He then 
went into a wild rage. 

"Away! away! Accursed monk!” he shouted at 
the top of his voice, and then turned prone upon 
his bosom. 

"Pray go on with the ceremony,” pleaded Jean¬ 
nette, "he has a delirious fever, but will soon 
understand. ’ ’ 

Burt was placed on his back by Arnault and the 
priest. 

"My son,” said the latter, "will you listen to 
the voice of reason? Will you-” 


THE PEINCE OP PASSION 


219 


Burt interrupted by saying; 

‘‘Excuse me, Father/^ Tears were in both of 
BurPs eyes. “Go on,^^ he stammered, “go on.’^ 

A moment later he began muttering in whispers 
and said: 

“Yes, lePs go on, but, but that sun is warm— 
and the gardens of Arabia—that storm—that 
calm; Algeria is wondrously beautiful. Oh, no, 
no, no I it is the Brocken, the Hartz,—that bell— 
sunrise.^’ 

“May I be permitted to carry out this young 
lady^s request, and proceed with the ceremony 
the priest asked, after he had held his patience 
for some while, pitying the poor forlorn object 
that lay before him. “Go on! go on!^^ Burt 
seemed to command in a firm tone. 

“Do you. Dr. James Burt, take this woman, 
Jeannette Arnault, as your lawful wife; to love, 
cherish, honor, and obey until death do you both 
part f ^ ’ asked the priest in reverential manner and 
with a solemnity that brought tears to the eyes 
of all present. 

“I, I-Burt said, but stopped abruptly. 

“Do youP^ repeated the priest. 

All was silence. Jeannette Arnault bent over 
Burt, as did the priest. A serene silence had 
come over Burt. He was cold. The priest arose, 
and taking Jeannette’s hand firmly into his own, 
spoke to her in a father’s way. 

“My daughter,” he said, “as a man thinketh in 
his heart so is he. In the eye of the Almighty 


220 THE PEINCE OF PASSION 

God you and this man are one. It was so willed. 
He intended to marry you, but could not carry his 
desire into execution. He has passed into the vale 
of shadows,—of things that are no more. The 
hell he heard was the toll that summoned him to 
the Great Beyond. I shall render my blessings.” 
The Prince of Passion was dead. 


THE END 



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